


Danger Days

by edema_ruh



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Abusive Parents, Aftermath of Torture, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Angst, Blood, Brainwashing, Captivity, Crying, Developing Relationship, Drug Use, Dystopia, F/M, Fake Character Death, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Getting Together, Grief/Mourning, Guns, Gunshot Wounds, Human Experimentation, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kidnapping, Love Confessions, M/M, Multi, Post-Danger Days, Rallies, Recovery, Revolution, Revolutionary War, Temporarily Unrequited Love, mentions of torture and human experience, uprisings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-08
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-02-28 14:01:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 76,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2735243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edema_ruh/pseuds/edema_ruh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The year is 2021. The dictatorial Better Living Industries has settled its hegemony not only in North America, but also in Europe and Asia. In light of the heavy thought manipulation and abuse the public is submitted to, a rebel group known as Les Amis is formed in France to fight the BL/Ind. and live up to the Killjoys ideals, meaning not only to free France but the whole world.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Look Alive, Sunshine

**Author's Note:**

> Firstly, I would like to thank you for deciding to read this and warn you I am not a native English speaker (I'm from Brazil). Therefore, any spelling or grammar mistakes are not intentional, but I would love to be corrected if i commit any! Also, all constructive criticism is appreciated and I'd love to receive your feedback! I hope you enjoy this fic. Thanks for reading this!

**Chapter One: Look Alive, Sunshine**

_Pumping out the slaughtermatic sounds to keep you alive_

_A system failure for the masses_

_Anti-matter for the master plan_

_Louder than God's revolver and twice as shiny_

Paris, 2012.

Enjolras glances up to the night sky from his bedroom’s window, dusted by the nearby explosions and fires. There were no starts scattered in the dark as it was supposed to be, but several floating machines that the young boy could not recognize. Perhaps they were planes, perhaps they were drones, Enjolras could not tell. His body shivered and trembled in fear as one of the floating machines dropped a bomb – a helium bomb – near the building that was once his school, before hell broke loose and the natural catastrophes and wars had started. The sound of the explosion only reached his ears long afterwards it; but the air dislocated by it reached his house with such power that his window exploded in a million pieces, scattering glass all over the floor and, if had Enjolras not covered his eyes in the right second, he might had gone blind.

His mother bursted into the room carrying a bag – that was probably full of her jewels and most precious personal belongings – and yelled something the blonde could not hear since his ears were ringing. The desperate woman shook him by the shoulders and he could make out the words “we need to go now!” leaving her red lips. He got up as fast as he could, not caring for the broken pieces of glasses piercing into the soft flesh of his bare feet, and followed his mother, who was already out of the room and going down the stairs. He only had time to pick up one book, his favorite one: Du Contrat Social, by Jean-Jacqes Rousseau. While his mother carried all her jewels and his father carried his files from the firm, he spared no time for shoes or shirts, but cared only for his book. His father yelled at him for coming in the car with bloodied feet and no shoes on, but he only held his book tighter against his chest as the man drove off into a destiny Enjolras could not be sure of.

Behind them, another explosion filled the starless night sky. ~ “Combeferre! Combeferre!” screamed the young Enjolras at the top of his lungs in front of his best friend’s house. The boy came rushing with his little sister beside him, glasses broken above his nose and hands filled with bags that probably contained survival kits. His mother came right behind them, with a large backpack on her back and they didn’t even bother to close the house’s door as they nearly jumped inside the car.

“How is the situation?” Mm. Combeferre asked Enjolras’ parents once they were all settled inside the car and the man rushed along the dirty streets of Paris. It was his mother who answered instead.

“Bad. Really bad. Helium bombs keep being thrown everywhere by everyone, nobody knows who is involved in this war anymore. London is already knee-deep in radiation; most people are on quarantine and probably will never get out of it. Paris is nearly as good as them. Some say that in North America they are even losing control of the borders; there is barely state recognizing anymore. The whole world is chaos. The only hope for us is begging the BL for help; Adrien guaranteed they would spare a room or two in one of their facilities for us. The environment is radiation free and we can stay there until things calm down”.

“You missed Courf’s house!” said Enjolras, noticing his father had passed straight where he was meant to turn and enter Courfeyrac’s street.

“There’s no room in the car. He’ll have to find his own way,” answered Enjolras’ dad, not even looking back.

“Adrien, it is only he and his father. Obviously there is a way…” protested his mother.

“Shut up, woman! I am not risking our lives and going back for some kid who’s not even our family. Brat should be grateful enough we’re taking these ones with us”.

“Adrien!”

“We are not leaving Courfeyrac behind!” said Combeferre.

“Hush Combeferre” said the boy’s mom, holding his little sister against her and trying not to show how angry she was.

“Adrien, please. He’s just a kid. Are you going to let him die when you can save him? He’s your son’s best friend, he’s a human being. There have been no explosions is the last minutes. Just turn left on that street and let’s go back to get him. Please. Think of Enjolras”. His father seemed to hesitate for a few seconds and Enjolras thought he would just keep driving at full speed, but he did as his mother asked and turned left, going back to pick Courfeyrac up. Enjolras and Combeferre sighed in relief in unison, and the blond finally turned to the side to take a look at his brunette friend. Combeferre was trying to keep his glasses from completely breaking apart, and was cleaning one of the lenses as he looked up to Enjolras. There was a small cut in one of his cheeks and a bruise forming on his forearm, but other than that he seemed unharmed. They didn’t have to exchange words, that was Enjolras’ favorite part of their friendship: while Courfeyrac was always loud and loved communicating with people, Combeferre only had to look at Enjolras to see what the other was thinking. The brunette slowly nodded to the blond, who returned the nod, and they sat in silence until Enjolras’ father stopped the car abruptly in front of Courfeyrac’s falling-to-the-pieces building.

“If he doesn’t show up in five minutes we’re leaving without him, no more words” the man warned.

Enjolras had no time to lose. He opened the car’s door, ignoring his mother’s shout of “Enjolras!” and ran into the building. The excessive dust made him cough, and he could see that a large piece of the ceiling had fallen in front of the elevator’s door. Among the shouting coming from various directions in the building, he could hear a quiet sobbing and a low manly voice speaking a constant and unintelligible mantra. As he approached the broken structure he noticed there was a man stuck beneath the wreckage, and as one of the lights suddenly flickered for barely two seconds, he noticed with horror that it was Courfeyrac’s dad. He was still alive, but even though Enjolras was only 14, he could see there was no way the man was going to survive. He could see a red stain leaving the man’s pale lips, and with all the chaos going on in the city, there was no way he was getting any medical help in time. Courfeyrac was crouching beside him, a constant flow of tears wetting his cheeks and cleaning the dust that had laid there. Enjolras had known him since he was a kid and they would be friends for a long time after that, but that was one of the only times the blond had ever seen the raven haired boy cry.

“Please, dad, please” was all Courf managed to say between broken sobs.

“Just go, my son, just go,” whispered the man for what it seemed to be the millionth time.

“Courf” Enjolras called, sounding much colder that he had intended. They needed to get out of there.

“Enjolras! Enjolras, please, you have to help me!”.

“Just go, my son, just go”.

“Enjolras, come on! If we both lift the concrete, he may… He might be able…”

“Courf” Enjolras said, closing the distance between he and his sobbing friend and holding him in a tight hug. Enjolras was not a hug person, but his best friend needed it right now. Maybe even Enjolras needed it right now.

“No! Enjolras, we can’t leave him!”

“Just go, my son, just go”.

“I’m so sorry, Courf, there’s nothing we can do for him. We need to go, we need to go”.

“No! Enjolras, how can you say that?”

Outside the building, Enjolras’ father started to honk loudly. They needed to go.

“Courf, we need to go, we need to leave before they drop another bomb!”

“Enjolras, I’m not leaving him!”

“Just go, my son, just go”

“Courf, I’m sorry but it’s too late! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry”

“NO! I’m not leaving my dad! You go without me!”

The whole world stopped as the floor trembled beneath Enjolras uncovered feet; there was no doubt another bomb had been dropped. A few seconds passed before the whole building began to shake and pieces of the concrete left on the first floor became to rain on their heads. Enjolras knew they only had seconds to exit or they’d be buried alive and be as good as Courfeyrac’s dad.

“We need to go now!” he screamed, and without hesitation, closed his arms around Courfeyrac and started dragging the boy outside with all his might.

“No! Dad! No! Enjolras, no!” the raven protested, wiggling and attempting to scape his friend’s grip. “No, I can’t leave him, no!”

“Just go, my son, just go”

“Dad! Dad!”

Enjolras managed to throw Courfeyrac’s struggling body outside the building and jump above him, just as the door was covered by a horrifying mix of concrete, dirt and broken furniture. His friend was still struggling and attempting to shove Enjolras away, both sweating and trembling. Courfeyrac was still crying as two strong hand lifted both boys in the air and shoved them in the car, and in an instant they were driving away.

“What the hell happened?” asked Enjolras’ mom, looking both annoyed and worried.

“His dad. The ceiling collapsed and he got stuck on the wreckage. Courf didn’t want to leave without him”.

“Then you should have left him behind! Do you have any idea what could have happened to us if we had stayed there any longer? The goddamn building was starting to collapse!”

“I couldn’t just leave him there father, he’s my friend!”

“Well kiddo, I guess you’ll find out the hardest way that friends don’t keep you alive! You risked your father and you mother’s life on this little empty rescue mission just because you have a goddamn unresolved god complex! Now, you fix that or I’ll have to fix it for you. And I really hope you don’t have any more friends to pick up, because we ain’t and I’m not in the mood to hear more children cry”.

Only then Enjolras realized Courfeyrac was still sobbing, even though Combeferre was attempting to comfort him with a patting hand on the boy’s shaking shoulder. The raven was trying to keep it as low as possible as if to not disturb them, but he was clearly not managing to. Combeferre’s sister, who was now cradled in her mom’s lap to give more space to everyone on the back seat, pulled out a little piece of chocolate out of her pocket and offered it to Courfeyrac, who only sobbed harder (but accepted it). They drove the rest of the way in silence, no one daring to speak a single word as two more bombs were heard in the distance. They were now in a road full of abandoned cars, no light apart from the car’s headlight. It took Enjolras nearly half an hour to dare to look back, and his blue eyes, usually so stoic and strong, melt down and filled with tears at what he saw. It looked like every single building in Paris was either in flames or struck down. The flying machines were finally taking off, as it seemed their work there was done. Smoke filled the night sky disguising itself as rainclouds, shining and illuminated by the orange vicious fire that was burning his beloved home city. As he stared at the evil war bonfire, one of the tallest buildings in town collapsed, raising a big cloud of dust that joined the smoke already in the air and mixed up with it. If Enjolras tried hard enough, he thought, he could probably hear the people screaming. He didn’t try, though. His heart felt heavy in his chest and he spared a look to Combeferre. The boy seemed as frightened as he probably was, and stared at Enjolras with questioning brown eyes, that reflected the burning hellfire behind them. Enjolras’ eyes, he thought, probably reflected the same unspoken question, the question he didn’t know the answer to. And even though Enjolras hated not knowing, he ignored the gut-wrenching feeling in his belly and raised his arm to embrace a now quietly weeping Courfeyrac.

~

2020

The raw sound of metal shocking itself with metal and occasional footsteps were the only thing that could be heard in the room. Guns were being readied, backpacks were being filled up and there was a quiet yet comfortable anxious feeling in the air. Enjolras finished setting his gun and, placing it carefully attached to his belt, got up and made his way to where Combeferre was chatting with Joly. Joly used to be a medical student before joining their little group, after he realized that there was no way everything the Better Living Industries were producing would be good for the people. When hearing about a resistance, he searched out for Les Amis (who, at the time, hadn’t come up with the name) and was gladly welcomed; it was always good to have someone with medical knowledge as an ally. Besides, Joly had worked for BL/Ind for nearly one year and knew about at least some protocols they followed and drugs they produced, which was another advantage for them. But what Enjolras liked the most about the medic – he wouldn’t show it too much, after all, he was the leader of the group and had an image to keep – was his easygoing personality and great advice. Combeferre was the one with the best advice for nearly everything, but where he failed, Joly was there to cover his back and help Enjolras sort out whatever problem he may be having in the moment.

“Everything’s ready?” asked Enjolras without bothering to apologize for interrupting their conversation.

“Yeah. We’re just waiting for Bahorel to return from the patrol and we’ll be ready to go” answered Combeferre.

“He went alone?” Enjolras asked. It was too risky to go on patrol alone, not only because their current location was way more dangerous than the last ones, but also because there was a limit of distance they could cover without being damaged by the radiation. BL/Ind told people there were only a handful of safe places to stay at without being severely contaminated by radiation from the helium war (even though it took place five years ago), and coincidently those places were around the company’s quarters. It took Enjolras and his friends one year to figure out that that was bullshit, and there was actually only a handful of places contaminated. But it would take a long time to convince the public to leave their lethargic inducing drugs and betray the company that apparently protected them to join a group of poor revolutionaries that said that places supposedly filled with radiation were safe for children to play. Time was the only ally Enjolras could hope to count on. Even if the contaminated areas were a few, it was better to be safe than sorry.

“No, of course not” Joly answered. “He went with R. They’ll be back soon enough”.

“Good to know that the drunkard has finally decided to do something useful” Enjolras commented absentmindedly as he walked away to check on another group of friends. He could see Prouvaire – a small ginger boy with too many freckles on his face for Enjolras’ liking, who couldn’t shut up about romance and poems. Enjolras was grateful for him nevertheless: the boy could be insufferable sometimes, but some poems he wrote about their cause got people touched and brought a lot of allies for their group – talking excitedly to Courfeyrac, who was sitting cross-legged in front of him and tapping his fingers on the floor in a constant rhythm that sounded like an old music (from the time where they were still allowed to listen to music; BL/Ind took even that away from them). He nodded quickly to both of them and carried on.

Éponine, a punk-looking girl who couldn’t be older than 19, was talking to her little brother Gavroche, as if giving him a lecture, while their little sister Azelma watched and nodded at her firmly. Gavroche, just as rebel looking as his older sister, looked bored and barely spared her a glance while she finished speaking and tapped his clothes. She pulled out a pack of cigarettes from the boy’s jacket, and Enjolras could not hear what she was saying but it sounded like Gavroche was in big trouble for the way she was shaking the pack in his face and gesticulating as if her life depended on it. Enjolras understood why she was so mad. She was doing her best to take care of the kids, since their parents had abandoned them, and one of her worst fears (even if she had never admitted it out loud) was to Gavroche or Azelma turn out like her. Enjolras stopped looking. He sighed internally, wondering how he would have ended up had he had someone to care for him as much as Éponine cares for her family.

He couldn’t help but remember the day he decided to run away from BL/Ind’s facilities and never go back. It was the same night his mother died.

They had been living there for two years, Combeferre and his family (that had adopted Courfeyrac) in the dorm just across the hall from them. BL/Ind had released some areas around the facilities for public use, since the radiation levels were not life threatening, according to them. They sold pills for people that wanted to go out there, but the effects of the said pills only lasted for a couple hours and then people would have to get back. Enjolras didn’t buy this idea for a second. He hated all those pills they sold them, he had only taken one once, in his first year there, and the things he felt made him promise to himself he would never take one again.

But his parents took it all the time. His mother, to be more specific, took at least three per day. Enjolras was starting to get more worried as she grew more and more distant, until one they he entered the room to find her laying very still on her bed, eyes opened and empty, glancing at the ceiling with a dull red smile. Enjolras could do nothing but stare. The image of his mother lying dead because of an overdose (he found the empty bottle afterwards as he was picking up his stuff; she had overdosed on “Happiness”) was carved in his mind and would probably follow him into his grave. He could still remember clear as a day his father entering the room and barely sparing a look at his son or his wife. When Enjolras, very frightened, whispered to him what happened, his father finally looked at his dead wife. Looking back at Enjolras, he barely said “Well, that’s a pity. But it happens sometimes, Enjolras, you shouldn’t brood on this. Just move on” before taking a bottle with pills Enjolras could not recognize and exiting the room.

He could still remember the utter and pure rage that filled his very being: rage for his mother taking those pills so recklessly and leaving him behind with a man that clearly did not care for him; rage for his father being so cold and distant and not even caring that his wife was dead; rage for BL/Ind for producing all those pills and forcing people to buy them because they weren’t allowed more human contact than the corporation found necessary; rage for himself, for not being able to save his mother or his father or anyone of the dictatorship that was clearly getting out of control. It was then when he decided to take his things and leave for good, and if Combeferre and Courfeyrac wanted to go with him, fine, and if they didn’t, he would go alone. There was no way he’d stay there, living at the very murder scene of his mother.

He had his pack filled with what he deemed more important (his beloved book and some clothes the facility had given him since he had taken none of his own) and was about to leave when his father entered the room once more. Seeing his son with his backpack on shoulder, ready to leave, he laughed so hard and loudly that Combeferre’s mom opened the door to their dorm trying to find the problem.

“Get inside, brat, where do you think you’re going?” he said, mockingly.

“Away” answered Enjolras, eyes cold as stone.

“To be contaminated by radiation and die? To starve in the streets? Get inside, Better Living is all we have now”.

“No! I refuse to live like this!”

“What is going on here?” asked Combeferre’s mother, getting out of the dorm and walking up to the scene, locking the door behind her so that the teens could not watch the discussion.

“He’s drank himself stupid because my mother is dead” answered Enjolras.

“Watch your mouth!” his father yelled, grabbing Enjolras by the collar of his shirt. “Watch your mouth brat, or you’ll regret it”.

“Hey! Adrien put him down. He’s your kid. What’s happening?”

“He can’t control this goddamn mouth of him, that’s what’s happening! He needs a lesson!”

Enjolras was shoved to the ground and his head collided harshly with the wall behind him. He saw dark spots swimming in his vision for a couple seconds before being able to sit down, rubbing the back of his head. He saw Combeferre’s mom attempting to calm his father down, speaking to him and holding his arms. But his father hit her in the face and she fell to the floor, and that was when Enjolras could no longer keep everything he was feeling inside of him and got up, bursting into tears.

“My mother is dead and it’s your fault!” he screamed at the top of his lungs “You didn’t love her and now she’s dead! She’s dead because you took us to this bloody place, it’s all your fault! Who will be the next! You’re dead drunk on your feet and you can’t even stand up straight and you are not my father!”

Enjolras’ cheek was met by his father’s open hand as he slapped him hard like he had done with Combeferre’s mom, and Enjolras fell to the ground once more. That didn’t keep him from continuing his speech.

“You were never my father, you never loved me, or mum, or anyone but yourself! You’ll die alone in this hole but do not think you can drag me down with you. I will not stand this injustice any longer, I am leaving!”

“Enjolras? What’s going on?” he heard Combeferre’s voice and saw both his best friends standing in the hall, confused. When he saw his mother, who was still on the ground looking horrified at Adrien, he rushed to her side, repeating his question, that was left unanswered.

“You take one step in the exit direction and I’ll fucking end you kiddo, don’t even think I’m joking” Enjolras’ father slurred.

“You can’t stop me from leaving”.

“Enjolras, calm down okay, just wait until he gets sober so you guys can talk this out” Combeferre suggested and gained a nod from Courfeyrac. Mm. Combeferre was now on her feet, standing proudly and looking at the man before her with utter disgust on her face.

“My mother is dead!” screamed Enjolras, finally allowing the tears to flow down his face. “She’s dead and it’s his fault and I will not stay here any longer”.

At this Combeferre looked shocked and Courfeyrac looked terrified. Enjolras stood up, leaning against the wall. Taking his backpack and putting it on his shoulder, he had to muster all the courage he had left to spit at his father’s feet and turn his back to walk away. He immediately stopped when he heard the familiar metallic sound of his father’s laser gun being raised.

“You take one more step and I’ll fucking end you kiddo” he echoed his words from merely seconds earlier. Enjolras turned back, and for the first time in his life he was able to gaze into his father’s eyes with no fear in his own. He took a deep breath and said softly “As you ended my mother?” before closing his eyes and waiting for the killing shot.

That never came, though, and when he opened his eyes he could only see a confusion of bodies colliding with each other; Mm. Combeferre had jumped to the man as he was about to shoot his only son down, and they got stuck in an wrestle until the gun fell on the ground and she managed to punch Enjolras’ father twice on the face. The man fell on all fours and the bastard smiled, spitting a mix of blood and saliva on the ground. Just as she was about to kick the gun away from his grasp, Adrien jumped for it and shot her once, twice, thrice in the chest.

Enjolras’ ears were ringing. Distantly, he could hear Combeferre screaming in horror and Courfeyrac yelling something unintelligible; his arms were frozen and his vision was turbid. The faint sound of Mm. Combeferre’s body colliding with the cold ground somewhat brought him out of his shocked state, and his brain took control of his actions subconsciously. In a second he was frozen in the spot and in the next he somehow had his father’s head on the barrel of the gun he’d managed to take from the man’s limp fingers.

“Do it” he whispered, looking shocked with his own actions. “Just do it”.

“Mom! Mom!” Combeferre was screaming.

“Enjolras, what are you doing! Put that down, what are you doing!” Courfeyrac was right beside him.

“Take your things and Céline. We’re leaving” he managed to keep his voice from trembling.

“What? We can’t leave Enjolras, oh my god, what are we going to do, oh my god!”

“Mom, please, mom! No!”

“Take your things and calm Combeferre down!”

“Enjolras!”

“Mom, please!”

“Always knew you were a fucking coward, kid. You don’t even have the balls to shoot a murderer. How do you think you’ll survive out there, huh? This world is gonna eat you alive and I ain’t gonna stay there and watch! In the end you’ll come back crying and begging me and BL to take you in again, but I’ll just laugh and tell them to close the door on your stupid face. That’s what you are, just a stupid kid with a stupid god complex, stupid ideals and a stupid…”

“Shut up!” Enjolras screamed, hitting the side of the man’s head with the butt of the gun. He fell, unconscious, with a sick noise, head colliding with the ground. Everyone fell silent at that.

“… Enjolras” Courfeyrac whispered after what felt like years.

Enjolras looked at Combeferre, whose face was shining with fresh tears. The boy simply stared back at him.

“I’m so sorry” he said.

“I know” the brunette sobbed.

“What the ever loving hell is going on here?” a raspy unfamiliar voice asked at the end of the hall. The three boys looked up at the same time, and saw a S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W heading in their directions. Enjolras had no idea of what to do, but as soon as he saw the vampire’s hand reaching for his gun, he didn’t hesitate and shot him down. One shot was enough.

“Christ” Courfeyrac whispered in despair.

“We don’t have time. I know you just lost your mom, ‘Ferre, but I just lost mine too and if we stay here any longer, they won’t let us live. My father will make sure we don’t. Please, I know it’s hard, but just take your things and your sister and let’s get out of here because there are more of them coming!” He had the bare time to see Combeferre’s frantic nod before he heard more steps in the end of the hall. He ran to the fallen vampire and took both guns in his belt, and the belt itself, just as three more S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/Ws appeared in the end of the hall and were faster on taking their guns. Enjolras managed to shoot one down, but two of them opened fire against the boys; Courfeyrac and Combeferre ran to their dorm and shut the door, while Enjolras hid behind the wall to protect himself from the laser guns. Taking a deep breath and trying to keep level-minded, he threw himself in front of the vampires, shooting as many times as he managed. Even when the agents fell down he kept shooting, and shooting, and shooting, until Combeferre was suddenly by his side taking carefully the unloaded guns away from his trembling hands.

They all had backpacks on their backs, and Combeferre, level minded as always, even if grieving, was thinking of the best for them on the situation. He went to the fallen vampires and took all their guns, making it 7 in total, counting with his father’s one, that was still loaded. As they fought their way out of the facility and ran in the direction of the ghost city at their feet, Enjolras realized they could never be totally free unless the BL/Ind was taken down. And they had never stopped running ever since.

It was a really tough life in the first years, when they had to kill S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/Ws on a daily basis, steal food and find shelter that was not completely contaminated by radiation. It was only a year later, when they had found a stable and constant base, that they started to plan on getting people who weren’t happy with the situation to support them and join their cause. The first to come was the poet boy Jehan Prouvaire, and that was one more reason Enjolras could not completely dislike him despite his somewhat disturbing behavior. More came after him, all united by the same cause and the same goal: to take down and destroy Better Living Industries for good before they could ruin more lives and kill more people.

Enjolras was so stuck in his nostalgic memories that he didn’t even notice when Bahorel and Grantaire returned from their patrol in a frantic race and horror in their eyes. A few people had to call his name a few times before he got out of his distractive thoughts and finally paid attention.

“What happened?” he asked, approaching the duo. Grantaire was breathing too hard and leaning on his knees because of the run, but Bahorel, who was a little more calm than him, spoke up.

“We were listening to that pirate radio from the US, you know? That one with the guy who calls himself Death or whatever”

“Doctor Death Defying” Jehan spoke up.

“Yeah, that’s the man. Our last radio kinda broke because of those bastards last shelter, and you know, we were walking by this abandoned house and we found this beautiful, shining, brand new radio staring right at us…”

“Go straight to the point, Bahorel” Enjolras interrupted coldly.

“We took the radio, we brought it with us, but in our way here, we heard some bad news”.

“What bad news?” Combeferre asked.

“Remember those weird guys who fought the American BL facilities and were like a revolutionary group that intended to take them down?”

“Yes, I recall them. They called themselves Killjoys” Enjolras said, getting annoyed by Bahorel’s lack of objectivity.

“Yeah, apparently they’ve been increasing their signal so that the whole world can listen to them. Anyway. The main leaders are dead, man”.

There was a sharp, unison intake of breath in the room.

“What?” Courfeyrac asked.

“The Doctor Death guy was talking about this on the radio. Apparently BL kidnapped a little girl that was on their guard and they main leaders of the movement went after her. They got the girl out, but some S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/Ws shot them down and now they’re dead” said Grantaire, breathing more regularly and standing up straight. Enjolras sighed.

“This is a huge delay on the revolution. They were the biggest active group we had in the whole world so far. This is a huge loss” he said after a few seconds of silence.

“Yeah, keep talking as if you’re in their funeral, blondie” Grantaire scowled. “So, what are we doing now?”

Enjolras glared at him, annoyed.

“We keep running”.

“We keep running? You said yourself the movement was delayed”.

“It is delayed but it is not over. As long as there is one single person fighting BL’s abusive dictatorship, there will still be hope for the damned”.

“Your words are pretty but they mean nothing, Apollo. They’re as empty as this shelter will be in a few hours. So we keep running and then what? We’ll just run forever? You know, someday we’ll get tired. It’ll be better if we just stop this whole nonsense while we still can, find somewhere peaceful to live in and leave those companies and their drugs to their drug addicts and patrons before we get killed”.

“We are not getting killed. We will find a way to take them down, piece by piece, even if slowly. We will free the people, we will free the addicts and show them the world is so much more than drugs and facilities”.

“Yeah, but it isn’t. What’s in the world for those poor bastards? Absolutely nothing. All that is left is dust, broken buildings and stupid people like us fighting a war we can never win. We’re too few and they’re too many. Just accept it, it’ll hurt less when your illusion of freedom and equality is brought down”.

Anger boiled in Enjolras’ blood as he spoke. He couldn’t control himself any longer.

“You listen to me, you good for nothing drunkard. I don’t care if you lost all hope, if you’re a cynic or if you simply don’t give a damn about what I say here every single day to keep the hopes up. You’re not happy with our ideals? Great, just leave then. Go to BL, ask them to take you in, and if, only if, they don’t shoot you down at the spot, you can go have fun with all their hallucinogens and drugs to give you something to feel, since apparently you can’t do it if not under the influence of something. But don’t you dare come in here talking people down this thing because you’re not going to succeed. We need to bring people to our side, not drive them away with your negativity. If you have nothing good to say, then keep your mouth shut. Take a bottle and go drink it in your corner, but don’t stand in our way, do you understand?”

Grantaire had grown pale in the middle of the blond leader’s speech, but by the end of it, he nodded and did as he was told. Exaggerating his movements as an over dramatic actor, he took a bottle of gin and sat the farthest away from Enjolras as possible, cradling the bottle to his chest as if his life depended on it. He never took his eyes out of Enjolras for the rest of the evening.

“Enjolras, what do we do now?” Combeferre asked as he approached him. With both hands on his temple, Enjolras sighed deeply and, after a few seconds, spoke up to everyone in the room.

“We move. We need to keep going, we can’t stop. Vampires will be here any moment, they probably have tracked us down by now. Tomorrow, when we are settled somewhere else, Feuilly and Jehan will start making propaganda posters so we can spread in the main cities and try to bring more people to this. Even if we don’t get people enough, we can rally. We can rally, we can fight, we can put a stop to oppression. It won’t be easy, but if we put our hearts and souls into this, if we fight for our freedom, we will prevail”. After a pause, he added: “If there’s anyone here who doesn’t want to be a part of this revolution, be gone. We appreciate your help so far and thank you for the time you spared to our cause, but we don’t want to keep anyone here against their wish. It is easier to go away than to be forced to stay”.

The next morning, when everyone had settled themselves and their personal belongings in the cars they had managed to steal across their illegal years, they drove off until they found one more abandoned building that seemed to be stable enough not to fall down and crush them as they slept. And if Enjolras had to hide a small smile that threatened to show up on his lips when he saw Grantaire was still there, chatting lightheartedly with little Gavroche in the back of one of the trucks, he wouldn’t admit it to anyone.


	2. Na Na Na (Na Na Na Na Na Na)

_Make no apology_

_It’s death or victory_

_On my authority_

_Crash and burn, young and loaded_

“Enjolras. You need to rest”.

The blond revolutionary didn’t bother to look up to where Combeferre was standing above him, with a worried frown. Enjolras kept on writing on his notebook, furious notes written with a hurried yet still neat calligraphy.

“Enjolras”.

“Yes, Combeferre, I heard you. I’ll rest when I’m done”.

“You haven’t slept in nearly two days”.

“Because there are more important matters awaiting me!” he exploded, hitting his hands on the table. Combeferre barely flinched – he was used to his friend’s stressed behavior when he didn’t sleep well or had too much work to do.

“If you rest, then your performance will be better. You’re human, Enjolras, if you don’t stop for a few hours you’ll end up damaging yourself”.

“Self sacrifice is required if we want to succeed in this revolution” Enjolras replied, but closed his notebook anyway. He knew Combeferre only meant well and he was probably right, but he wouldn’t give in easily. At this, Combeferre stayed silent. Enjolras finally looked at him, really looked, and saw deep worry on his friend’s gaze. In an instant he realized what the problem was.

“How’s Céline?” he asked, his tone way softer than it had been a few moments before. Combeferre sighed.

“She’s getting worse. Joly is doing everything in his power to help her, but not even he is sure of what’s wrong. I’m… I don’t know, Enjolras, nobody has said that out loud, but I’m afraid it’s the radiation”. Enjolras tensed.

“’Ferre… I know you’re worried, but it can’t be radiation. We’ve been as far as possible from the contaminated areas, we even have two Geiger counters just to be sure. It must be something else; she’ll be ok”.

“I’m not sure if I can handle losing her” Combeferre admitted out loud, more to himself than to Enjolras, and only then the blond realized how serious the situation must be for Combeferre to voice his personal worries. He would usually keep the problem to himself and try to solve it, but now, as he said those words, dread took over Enjolras’ stomach as he wondered what would be of his friend if he lost his little sister. And what would be of this revolution if Enjolras lost his best friend.

“You’re not going to lose her” he said, not believing his own words for once.

~

Everyone felt silent and seemed to gather closer as Enjolras entered the living room of the apartment they were living on for the last week. The Ghost City (this was their nickname for the city since no one inhabited Amiens anymore) had been completely rid of living people. Their only greeters were abandoned buildings, cars, houses and, as they were all used to, skeletons and the decomposing bodies of those who didn’t make it in time to get out. Enjolras stood in the center of the room, Combeferre and Courfeyrac by his side, and waited until he got the attention of every member of their group before he started speaking.

“We are here today…”

“And so speaks the mighty Apollo” he was interrupted by Grantaire’s drunk voice.

“Shut it, Grantaire” he heard Éponine whisper. He cleaned his throat in annoyance.

“We are here today to discuss the possibility of an attack on one of BL/Ind’s facilities next week. We have everything we need; our plan is to invade the north facility at night, take as many medical supplies and food as we can, blow the building up and leave. Me, Courfeyrac, Combeferre and Bahorel are certain to go; we need three more volunteers”.

“Isn’t the north facility that one with that crazy guy called Javert?” Marius asked.

“Yes. But Feuilly managed to hack into one of their systems and took a look at the guarding schedule, the man won’t be there in the night we plan to attack. He’ll be visiting the west facility for a few days, apparently there has been some problem with the S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/Ws there. It is our perfect opportunity to attack”.

“Isn’t the north facility populated?” Jehan asked, frowning.

“The facility has been evacuated last month because of some structure problems. People who lived there were transferred to the west and south ones until the problem is fixed; if there’s anyone there it’s just vampires and some of BL/Ind’s patrons” Courfeyrac explained.

“Also” said Feuilly, with a wicked smile in his face while he typed fast on the BL laptop they stole a couple years ago. “I’ve got even better news. Since there is no one living there the facility is replacing the one they used to broadcast BL/Ind propaganda all over the country. You know those shitty commercials they put on the emergency screens? C’mon, everyone had one of those in the dorms. Anyway, the signal comes from there now” he looked at Enjolras. “If we have enough time I could hack them and broadcast our own message. Bring more people to the cause”.

“And reveal our faces” Combeferre completed, worried.

“We don’t need to show our faces, we could wear masks” suggested Éponine.

“And code names!” said Gavroche with enthusiasm.

“We aren’t playing spies, Gav” Éponine poked him.

“No, but the code names are a good idea” said Combeferre. “The Killjoys used code names. Party Poison, Kobra Kid, all of them had nicknames. If we show them our faces and our names, it will be easier for them to find us, but if we hide behind a mask and use codes the chances they track us is considerably diminished”.

“Don’t agree with the brat, he’ll think too much of himself” Éponine said, jokingly, and winked at Combeferre.

“That’s great, all of it. I’m sure we can spare a patrol to find an abandoned costume or clothing store around, and even if we don’t we can make our own with what we have. This is marvelous,” Enjolras said, beaming with pride.

“I can go with you guys to the facility” offered Marius.

“Alright, since Feuilly is coming too we only need one more volunteer” announced Enjolras.

“I’ll go” said Grantaire. Everybody grew silent at that and slowly turned in their seats to look at the man.

“You?” answered Enjolras, mockingly.

“Yes, me, o mighty Apollo” he answered, raising his bottle in an ironical gesture. “Why, you have a problem with this?”

Enjolras scowled.

“You don’t even believe in what we’re doing, to be honest I don’t even know why you’re here. Why would you want to help us on this?”

Grantaire raised his hand to his heart in an exaggerated gesture and made a pained expression.

“This way you break my heart, Enjolras. We all know you’re marble but you don’t have to be that cold. I want to help because you guys are my friends, and there’s no way I’ll let you have all the fun by yourselves. I want to be at the party too. Also, I love blowing some shit up”.

“Is everything a joke to you?” Enjolras said, angry, but Courfeyrac’s hand on his shoulder made him calm down.

“Alright, so we have everything and everyone we need. But how are we going to do this? We can’t just enter one of their facilities at plain sight; we’ll be spotted and killed. What’s your plan, Enjy?” he said.

“First of all, please don’t ever call me Enjy again. Secondly, I have already thought this through”. Enjolras pulled out a map from a nearby shelter and opened it on the table wildly. “Bahorel, volunteer 1 and volunteer 2 will go ahead of us and blow up some dynamite on the background of the building. They’ll plant more bombs, take off and wait with the car near this camp over here” he pointed the place in the map. “The explosion will attract S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/Ws, that will go to the back of the building, leaving the front unprotected or guarded by few vampires, that we easily can take down. You will shoot down those S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/Ws, or at least prevent them from sounding the alarm – they won’t know what the explosion was before seeing it, it could be anything, so let’s hope they don’t sound the alarms before. But if you guys don’t manage to stop them in time and they do sound the alarm, we’ll have little time, but I’m sure we can make it. They’re week, we can kill one with just one shot. Don’t waste your ammo, though, and don’t take any risks. While Bahorel and the others handle things in the back; me, Combeferre, Feuilly and two more people will enter the building from the front. It’ll not be heavily guarded since most of the vampires will be trying to figure out what the explosion was. We’ll find where the broadcasting room is, lead Feuilly there, he’ll do his thing, you guys plant the bombs, everyone goes to the car and we go away as fast as we can”.

Everybody was quiet as Enjolras finished speaking, as if his plan and what it represented was still sinking in.

“That’s the most cliché plan I’ve ever heard” said Grantaire, because of course, if anyone would criticize his plan, it would be him.

“Do you have a better one?” Enjolras asked, ironically.

“Give me a couple seconds” Grantaire asked and creased his brow as if all the strength he had was being directed to his thoughts. “Why don’t we throw one of the bombs at the S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/Ws’s observation towers and kill most of them with one blow, then kill the rest of them as they appear and then enter the building without taking the risk of one of them raising the alarms? I mean, of course the risk will still be there, but it will be way more difficult”.

“Because there’s no way they won’t spot seven people in a car throwing a bomb at them” Enjolras said as if Grantaire was the most stupid person in the world.

“Stop being so negative, those vampires are stupid” Grantaire protested, taking a long sip from whatever it was his alcohol of the day.

“Yes, well, thank you for your input, Grantaire, but I’m not going to risk our lives any more than necessary. We’re following my plan, since it’s way more likely to work”.

“Gee, you don’t need to get all bossy, ‘Pollo. I was just giving a suggestion. I didn’t know we were living in a dictatorship”.

Enjolras couldn’t help himself and started to move like he was about to walk towards Grantaire. In a moment Combeferre was there with a hand holding his arm.

“He’s just taunting you, you know how he can get” Combeferre whispered in his ear.

“I know how he will get if he doesn’t stop this” Enjolras muttered through clenched teeth.

“Peace, Enjolras. He’s drunk”.

“When is he not?” Enjolras said and, with that, walked away to the room he had acquired as his bedroom. He was sharing it with Combeferre, Céline, Courfeyrac, Joly and Jehan, while Grantaire stayed in the next room with Bahorel, Éponine, Gavroche and Azelma, and Marius stayed with Bossuet and Feuilly in another room. As he sat down and retrieved his notebook once more (ignoring Combeferre’s wise advice), his mind wondered once more why the hell Grantaire decided to leave behind everything he had at one of the cities near the BL/Ind facilities to join them in this revolution he barely believed in. The alcohol must be destroying his brain cells, Enjolras thought to himself. He started preparing the speech he would give when Feuilly managed to broadcast their message, but when Combeferre entered the room a couple hours later, all he found was a fast asleep Enjolras lying on the ground on what it looked like an uncomfortable position, notebook fallen right beside him and notes scattered across the floor.

~

“Stop making such a fuss, we’ll be back just fine” Grantaire told Éponine, when she hugged him for the fifth time that day.

“I know. But I’m afraid you won’t” she explained. “R?”

“What, my beautiful damsel?”

“You know damn right I’m not a damsel, so stop saying that you prick”. Grantaire laughed at that, truly laughed, not his I-am-totally-mocking-you-right-now laugh.

“Can I ask you a favor?”

“If this is about keeping your crush out of danger…”

“Please, R. You know I love him. You, of all people here, understand me”.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t need to get all cheesy. I’ll keep an eye out for his sorry ass. But just because you’re asking me”. She got on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek.

“Thanks, R”.

“Christ, who are you and what have you done to Éponine?” he asked, faking horror. She punched him lightly on the shoulder at this, and everything was settled between them.

“I want to go” he heard Gavroche say as he approached Bahorel.

“Jesus Christ” Bahorel complained, with his hand covering his face in an annoyed gesture. When he saw Grantaire was near them, he exhaled sharply and practically begged: “Please make this kid shut up. Please. I can’t take it anymore”.

“Quit the drama, ‘Rel. What’s up?”

“He wants to go with us”.

“Well, well, isn’t he a young believer himself. Why do you want to go?”

“Because it’s gonna be big and I want to be a part of it!” declared young Gavroche. Grantaire smiled.

“This kid is just precious. Sure, you can come with us”

“Dude, how drunk are you?” Bahorel asked.

“Nice!” beamed Gavroche, rushing and taking a small backpack.

“I only drank a cup of wine. Let the kid go, what harm will it do?”

“Really? You’re making me be the responsible one of the conversation? It’s dangerous; we won’t have time to take care of him”.

“Don’t talk like that, Gavroche is a big guy, he’ll behave, won’t he?”

“Sure I will!” he replied instantly.

“And, of course, his sister will love to know he went with us. Imagine her face when she finds out little Gavroche here slaughtered some vampires and damn, imagine what she will do when she discovers he had a gun on he! That’s a scene I wouldn’t miss for the world”.

Gavroche’s smile died on his face, giving place to an annoyed expression.

“You’re a douche” he said, dropping his backpack and starting to walk away.

“Love you too” Grantaire replied. Bahorel laughed lightheartedly.

“You good to go?”

“Yeah. I’m pretty sure Enjolras will be mad if I take a bottle or two with me, right?”

“You know he will, R”.

“Good, then”.

“Are you two ready?” asked Courfeyrac, heading to the car and waving at them as he walked.

“Yes, we’re on our way” Bahorel answered. Then he looked at Grantaire with a worried expression and asked: “Why do you do this?”

“Hm?” he replied, distracted.

“Why do you do everything in your power to annoy Enjolras? You know him, you know how this whole revolution thing is important to him. Why do you keep talking back?”

Grantaire stared straight ahead as they walked towards the car. When Bahorel thought he wasn’t going to reply and was about to drop the subject, Grantaire finally spoke up.

“Because this is the only way he’ll ever notice me”.

~

“Alright, does everyone remember the plan or do we have to rehearse it?” Enjolras asked, whispering, even though they were inside the car, way out of the S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/Ws sight.

“Who am I going with again?” Marius asked. Enjolras rolled his eyes.

“With Grantaire and Bahorel”.

“Oh, okay” he said, blushing.

“Anyone has any questions? This is the time” he warned.

“I have one” Grantaire raised his hand. Enjolras looked at him and nodded, as if giving him permission to speak. “Why are we whispering?” he asked.

Enjolras’ sigh was so loud in comparison to how low he was keeping his voice before that the contrast made Grantaire shiver. He opened the car’s door and exited, everyone mimicking his actions except for Grantaire, who stayed a few seconds longer so he could take another long sip from his vodka bottle. When he finally closed the door behind him, louder than anyone had, he gained a glare from Enjolras, but no harsh words. This made Grantaire grow nervous and wonder why he hadn’t been scolded at. I must be getting really drunk, he thought.

“You guys go now, and as soon as we hear the explosion we’ll wait two minutes and go right after you. Set the bombs to blow up thirty minutes after and go wait in the car. Don’t go back for us. Wait here, and we’ll get to you” Enjolras instructed. Bahorel and Marius nodded, starting a small race to the big, gray building that rose beside them, but it took Grantaire a few seconds before following them.

“He’s drunk, isn’t he” said Enjolras, making his sentence sound not like a question, but like a statement.

“Probably” said Courfeyrac. “But that’s not uncommon”.

Enjolras made a disgusted face.

“If he ruins our plan I’m going to kill him” he threatened.

“Stop being so harsh on the poor guy, Enjolras. He’s been through a lot, too” said Feuilly, cradling the old laptop to his chest. The moonlight was being reflected on his brown eyes and casting shadows on his freckled face, making him look way older than he truly was – even though he was the oldest one in their group.

“What do you mean?” Combeferre asked.

“I’m not sure if he would like me to say it all for you, but basically all you need to know is that his mother was a bitch and his sister overdosed in the same year he joined our group”.

“He had a sister?” Courfeyrac seemed surprised.

“Yeah, she was like 11 or 12. I think she was the only reason that kept him from leaving before”.

“So he joined us because he didn’t have a better option?” Enjolras asked. Somehow, the idea annoyed him. Feuilly just stared at him.

“What?”

“You remember the day he joined us?” he asked seriously.

“Yes. I was making a little speech in one of the streets of the BL’s industries and he was on the little crowd. He went after us”.

“And you really don’t know why he followed us?”

Enjolras was about to answer but his voice was cut off by the sound of the explosion that filled the night sky. They only had time to stare at each other before they broke off on a run towards the building. Hiding behind a thick bush, they waited until most S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/Ws were gone to find what the problem was. Enjolras looked at his friends, holding both guns in his belt, and nodded. They all got up at the same time, Courfeyrac shot the electronic lock with his laser gun and it caught fire; the facility fence started to open slowly and lasers from the remaining S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/Ws started to rain. Enjolras started shooting, being careful not to waste ammunition, and killed three vampires before he had to hind behind a pillar so he wouldn’t get shot.

He kept shooting, and so did his friends (except Feuilly, who was hiding too, but typing fast in his laptop and occasionally looking up to make sure he wouldn’t get shot), until there was no more enemy fire being launched against them. The blond leader got out of where he was shielding himself and walked over to his friends. As soon as he made sure all of them were unharmed, they started running to get to the main door, that was closed. Courfeyrac shot the controls, but the door remained closed.

“Shit. They must have strengthened the front doors, of course, shit, we didn’t think about it” he said.

“Hang on” Feuilly muttered, typing with one hand as the other one tried to balance the device in his hands.

“What are you doing?” Combeferre asked.

“Hang on” he replied.

“Watch out!” Enjolras warned, just as two vampires appeared before them. He managed to shoot one, but the other opened fire at them and Courfeyrac attacked him, punching him in the face. The S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W punched him back and they were stuck in a wrestle until Combeferre managed to shoot him in the head. The vampire fell to the ground, motionless.

“Damn, I had it, ‘Ferre!” Courfeyrac complained, raising his hand to his bloodied lip.

“Better safe than sorry” the brunette answered.

“Party pooper”.

“Got it!” Feuilly exclaimed, excited.

“What the hell are you even doing?” Courfeyrac muttered. Suddenly the door started to open slowly to the side, making way for them to go in. Feuilly shut his laptop with a wide grin on his face.

“How the heck?” Combeferre asked.

“Consider this the universe’s gift for you, Enjolras. I shouldn’t have been able to break into their systems this easily, but I’m willing to bet our guys’ explosion back there must have damaged one of their servers and their security system is down. But we better hurry; we still have to find the broadcasting room and record our message before they send more vampires”.

No more words were needed, they broke off into a run inside the building’s sinuous corridors, searching for the broadcasting room. More S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/Ws showed up in their way but they managed to take them all down; one of Courfeyrac’s guns had run out of ammo but they stole as many guns from the fallen guards as they could and shoved it in the bag Feuilly was carrying. They finally found the room they were looking for, and Feuilly had never looked so happy. Just as they had managed to open the door, a loud sound cut the night’s silence. They looked at each other, fear evident in their eyes, and Enjolras whispered softly:

“One of them must have sound the alarm”.

“I must admit it took them a while” Combeferre said as they rushed into the room and Feuilly started giving them orders on what they were supposed to do. “They probably were so confident no one would ever try to break in here that they barely had S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/Ws to guard the facility. I don’t know if we’re very lucky or if they’re very stupid”.

“I’m betting on both” Enjolras said.

“Alright alright, folks. We’ll be ready in a couple minutes. Enjolras, are you with those costumes we got?” Feuilly asked.

“Yes” Enjolras said, taking them from the bag. The disguise he had gotten himself was not very pompous, it was basically just a red cloth with golden flourishes on it, that he tied around his head so his nose and mouth were covered, a blood red leather jacket with strips on the shoulders, and an eye liner – he didn’t want to wear that, but Courfeyrac had insisted, saying he would look way more serious. Enjolras was pretty sure it would make him look like a jerk, but he didn’t argue, specially when Bahorel told him, mockingly, that it would help making his blue eyes contrast with the red colors. Combeferre, on the other hand, had picked up a red and black mask, that covered his eyes and half of his nose, but opened around his mouth in an oval form, closing in his chin. One would only be able to recognize him if they were very acquainted with him, otherwise, it would be hard to discover who owned those features. And, since he would just be standing on the background behind Enjolras, it wouldn’t be easy to find who he was. Courfeyrac was the fussiest of them all. Enjolras had tried to talk him out of it, but since he was Courfeyrac, of course he would simply ignore the blond and wear whatever he wanted. He had, somehow, found a complete Batman costume, and ignoring Enjolras’ pleas, was now wearing the suit and making poses as if he actually was Batman. Enjolras sighed heavily, massaging his temples, and asked Feuilly if they were ready.

The alarm outside had stopped, which meant that either their group had managed to turn it off or the message was received and more S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/Ws were on their way. Enjolras was feeling optimistic today, so he decided to do what he was there to do, and leave as fast as possible. They barricaded the door just in case. Feuilly gave him a sign, and told him to start speaking. They would broadcast in the same moment a commercial about new sensation drugs was supposed to be aired. “People of France” Enjolras started, feeling a little nervous but not letting it show in his voice

“People of the world. How long has it been since you have last hugged a fellowman? How long has it been since you have been outside BL’s quarters? How long has it been since they took your freedom away and told you what to do and how to feel?”

“They’re trying to cut us off, hurry” whispered Feuilly.

“They sell you drugs that change your behavior, they lock you up in gray dorms with no windows so you can’t see the outer world, they make threats about radiation and famine, they tell you they are the only thing you have. But they are not. How long will this last? How long will you allow yourselves to stay locked up inside a cage, in silenced by their poisonous medicines, like a bunch of animals ready for slaughter? Their drugs do not bring you happiness, or joy, or excitement. No medicine can give you that. How much time has passed since you last felt the wind against your face? They say the helium bombs have contaminated most or the world, but this is a vicious lie. There are very few areas contaminated, we know because we’ve been out there, we are out there. We ran away from BL’s dictatorial hand so we could fight for you, who are lying on your dorm right now, with a bottle of pills on your hands. You, who haven’t seen the sunlight for years. You, who have been deliberately lied to, fooled by this corporation’s fallacious promises. They can’t help you, they don’t want to help you. All they want is your money and your submission. And why should you give them that without fighting back? Why should you submit?”

Outside, many shots were heard, as if there was someone trying to burst the door open. Enjolras had few time, he knew that, so he decided to hurry his speech.

“Do not allow BL to control you any longer. Do not let them take over your life and tell you how to live it. Do not let them incarcerate you like beasts. Fight back, stand up and scream at the top of your lungs for your right to be free! We are Les Amis, your Amis, and we will be here for you when you need us. Let’s show BL/Ind that we are not as BLIND as they suppose we are!”

He made a sign for Feuilly to cut off the transmission and hurried for the bag and the guns.

“We need to get out of here immediately!” he yelled over the sound of shooting and yelling outside.

“Well, if we get out right now they’ll shoot us down for sure, Jesus, what will we do?” Courfeyrac asked desperately, what didn’t match his Batman suit at all.

“Feuilly?”Enjolras gazed at the redhead with a questioning look. The man sighed, looking nervous.

“Well, our message has been broadcasted, all city and probably a few frontier countries have received it. The bombs are planted. Our job here is done. We have nothing to lose” he said, running shaking hands along his hair in a nervous gesture. Enjolras nodded, seriously. He realized he hadn’t taken his mask off and Feuilly didn’t have one. But if they were going to die here, what difference would that make? At least they would be sacrificing themselves for what was right.

“Let’s go then” the blond said, taking a deep breath and starting to remove the furniture barricading the door, Combeferre and Feuilly aiding him. As soon as the path was free, Enjolras looked at all his friends, nodding to each one, looking deep in their eyes to try to pass some confidence to them. They were not going to die, and even if they did, it would be for a noble cause. And they would take down at least one facility with them. They opened the door and hell broke loose.

~

As soon as the bombs had exploded, Grantaire knew something was wrong.

They weren’t quite sure about where they had thrown the bomb, but as soon as it had gone off – louder than the raven had expected – millions of sparkles danced in the night before the three of them, while smoke entered their nostrils and lungs. It took Grantaire a moment to realize he should be running and hiding with Bahorel and Marius; he only noticed he was mesmerized by the sparkles when he heard Bahorel calling his name in a frenzy. S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/Ws started to appear down a large hall, guns raised and ready to shoot whoever the responsible for the explosion was. Since they didn’t see anyone just yet, a few of them started to try to put the fire down, as others went around looking for any threat. Bahorel got up so impulsively and suddenly that even Marius got scared, looking at Grantaire for reassuring before following the big man in his way to the vampires.

They started to shoot the unaware guards as fast as they could, and Grantaire could only hear Enjolras’ voice in his head repeating like a mantra, “don’t waste ammo, don’t waste ammo, don’t waste ammo”, as he tried to take each vampire with only one shot. Since Grantaire was a little drunk and his aim was never a particularly neat one, the task was a little more difficult than it was for Bahorel or Marius, but he managed to kill about ten S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/Ws before a lacerating pain appeared on his shoulder and he fell back.

The world started to spin as it did when he drank too much absinthe in a row, he heard his own body hit the floor with a sick thump, but he barely felt anything other than the horrid pain that now had gone down his whole left arm and paralyzed him in the spot. He had never felt this much pain in his life, not even when his little sister died, or when Enjolras called him useless, or that one time when his dad had beaten him unconscious…

“Fuck, can you hear me?” Bahorel was above him, trying to make him get up and to shoot guards at the same time, even though Marius got his back and was taking down as many S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/Ws as possible.

“Fuck…” was all Grantaire could mutter through his gritting teeth.

“Can you walk?” he asked, not looking at Grantaire as he shot two vampires that had passed Marius.

“I… I… can, just help me get up, it’s just a scratch” Grantaire lied.

“You’re such a shit liar” Bahorel pointed out.

“Love you too. Help me up”.

Bahorel offered his hand and Grantaire took it with his good arm. Getting up made his shoulder burn with raw pain, but he sucked it up and didn’t make a noise. Enjolras would be here any time and he would die before letting the man seeing him cry because of a little scratch on the shoulder. He already thought too little of Grantaire.

The raven took a small flask out of his pocket and drank it up in one sip. It took a while but the burning sensation in his arm was diminished to a numb throbbing as the tequila made effect. On the other hand, he got even more drunk. Finally there were no more S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/Ws coming their way for the time being, and they could relax for a couple seconds, breathing hard and loudly, Grantaire leaning against a wall.

“You okay, R?” Marius asked, worried.

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t worry about that” he said, dismissing the boy with a wave. Somewhere, a loud sound broke into the night.

“Shit. One of them must have sounded the alarm” Grantaire pointed out.

“You chickens keep talking, I’ll go plant the bombs at the spots Enjolras pointed to us before we run out of time” Bahorel announced, and was gone in the same moment.

“So, Marius” Grantaire said, knowing he’d regret that later, but the alcohol in his blood took all the inhibition out of him, “Do you fancy Éponine?”

“What?” the boy asked, blushing, clearly not expecting that.

“Well, don’t look so surprised. She’s pretty, she’s hot, she’s kinda cute when she wants something. You know. Maybe you guys could just snog sometimes” Marius’ face got so red that all his freckled disappeared.

“She’s my friend!” he protested.

“So what? Some blond revolutionary is my friend too and I would totally snog him” he said, ignoring his brain’s screams of SHUT UP.

“What! You fancy Enjoras?” Marius asked. Grantaire laughed, more a snore than anything else.

“Would you ask Éponine out?”

“I don’t know… I don’t think I see her like any more than a friend, you know?”

“Hmm…” was all Grantaire answered.

“Why, does she fancy me?” Marius asked, sounding horrified.

Before Grantaire could answer something really rude, a familiar voice broke into the night.

“People of France. People of the world” Enjolras said. Grantaire couldn’t tell from where his voice was being broadcasted, but they clearly had managed to break into the room they were trying to.

“Is that Enjolras?” Marius asked bewildered.

“Sounds like him” Grantaire said. “Let’s find Bahorel and get ready to get the hell out of here”.

Grantaire went the way he thought Bahorel had gone to, and they found him finishing to place the last bomb in the appropriate place.

“Hey, busy bee. You done there?” he asked.

“Yeah, man. But something’s off. There should be a lot of guards here right now. I mean, they sounded the alarm, but they haven’t come after us”.

Enjolras’ voice was still echoing in the night shouting words of anger and rebellion, but Grantaire, even in his drunk haze, could hear laser guns being shot in the background of the transmission.

“Shit” he said. “Shit, Bahorel, they all went after them”.

“Oh my God” whispered Marius.

“We need to go, we need to get them” Grantaire said.

“R, you’re hurt. And Enjolras told us specifically not to go after them, to wait for them in the car”.

“So what, you’ll just leave them behind? All of them?”

“I’m pretty sure they can manage it” Bahorel said, uncertain.

“Fuck you. Fuck both of you. Set the time for the bombs and go to the car. I’ll meet you there” he warned, and ran off before Bahorel managed to grab his arm. He heard both of them yelling his name as he went further inside the building, but didn’t look or turn back. Grantaire followed the sound of the guns being fired until he reached a corner full of S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/Ws. They all turned to him as he stopped running clumsily, not sure of what to do next. When they all opened fire against him he jumped back to where he came from, pulling out both his guns and getting them ready. He then had the most brilliantly stupid idea anyone could ever have.

He could hear the vampires’ footsteps getting closer, and knew he had only a few seconds to decide if he would follow his plan or not. He would have to take the longer way to reach the room Enjolras and the others were at, but it didn’t matter, it was better than being shot to death in this godforsaken facility. With deep remorse in his heart, he took his spare flask full of an unhealthy mix of vodka and tequila and opened it, scattering its contents on the floor behind him.

Just as one S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W finally reached him and raised his gun to his head, Grantaire pulled the trigger of his own laser gun, shooting at the alcohol at the floor. A hell-like flame instantly rose, burning the vampire that was about to kill him and sending an intense warmth to his face. Grantaire didn’t waste time, he knew the fire column would slow the S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/Ws but it wouldn’t keep them from shooting through it. So he ran as fast as he could, ignoring the pain on his shoulder with all his might and taking the opportunity to take a final gulp of his nearly empty flask.

He had to go round the long corridor to be able to turn to the one where the scarecrows had been; they were still there, but all gathered around the fire as if trying to figure out how to trespass it. Thank whatever deity is the true one BL hadn’t invested on a proper brain for those things, thought Grantaire.

Grantaire went to the only door in the corridor, where a bunch of S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/Ws were still trying to open it. He didn’t hesitate and instantly shot them all at the spot, they barely had time to react. But then one vampire appeared at the end of the corner, and other, and other, and Grantaire kept shooting them but he was starting to worry about his ammo. He was wasting it. He would run out of ammo and he would die, this isn’t how he ever imagined his death would be like. He didn’t stop shooting, and didn’t realize he was yelling, out of rage and pain, until suddenly the door burst open and Enjolras was there, magnificent, with golden hair falling over his blue eyes that were marked perfectly with eye liner, a red mask over his beautiful red lips and deep confusion on his expression. The sight made Grantaire lose his voice, and only when he was nearly shot (again) he got back to his senses.

He and Enjolras started shooting at the S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/Ws side by side, followed by Combeferre, Courfeyrac and Feuilly, as they walked towards the end of the corridor. More vampires kept coming, out of nowhere, and they kept shooting them. When they reached the corner Enjolras could see the fire – that was starting to spread and had reached at least half of the pathway – and looked even more confused at Grantaire.

“I had to improvise” he yelled over the sound of the laser guns being shot.

“Why did you come back?” Enjolras yelled back.

“I wouldn’t leave you behind”

“Why?”

Grantaire merely stared at him and kept shooting. He didn’t dare to reply. Then the sudden thought of Bahorel planting the bombs, and of how they were probably about to explode invaded his mind, and he yelled “we need to go now!” so all of them could hear him before he started leading the way while shooting at the S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/Ws.

They reached the main entrance, the one where Enjolras and the others had entered through and kept running for their lives. This was the worst part, they were easy targets running in an open field, and they could be easily shot down from the observation towers in front of the building. That didn’t happen, though; for as they were exiting the building a loud sound roared behind them and the explosion was so strong, it dislocated the air and threw them to the ground. Grantaire fell on his injured arm with a muffled scream and everything went fuzzy. The explosion had been the one in the background of the facility, and the bombs Enjolras had planted hadn’t blown yet. If they stayed where they were, they would be either crushed or burned; they needed to move now.

“Get up! What are you doing, get up!” he could hear Enjolras scream at him. He tried to get up, but now the wound on his shoulder was open and burning, burning like the fire he had lit on the gray melancholic hallway, it was the only thing in his mind, the burning ferocity that was consuming his arm, and in his sick, groggy, alcohol and pain-induced haze, he compared being shot and burned by that laser gun to falling in love with Enjolras.

“Grantaire! Get up, what’s wrong? We need to go!” the blond kept yelling, trying to make him get up by pulling him upright. Combeferre, the wisest of them all, realized the problem right away.

“Shit, he got shot, Enjolras! Help me” he said, as he passed Grantaire’s good arm around his shoulder to give him balance, and helped him on a hurried walk out of the building. Feuilly helped by taking Grantaire’s legs, and the both of them carried the injured drunkard out of the facility in a rush, being followed by several S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/Ws that were being shot down by Enjolras and Courfeyrac.

The last thing Grantaire heard was the explosion, the hot sensation of fire meeting his face, sounds of girders and concrete crushing down, and in a moment he was met harshly with the floor. Then, there was only a comforting darkness before his pain dissipated into numbness and he was embraced by unconsciousness, and even if he thought had heard Enjolras' voice screaming his name, he couldn't bring himself to wake up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to thank my gorgeous boyfriend for helping me understand a little more about what I needed to explode, so I wouldn't say absolute shit. As always, thank you for reading, and kudos and comments are deeply appreciated!


	3. Bulletproof Heart

_How can they say, Jenny could you come back home?_

_'Cause everybody knows you don't_

_Ever wanna come back, let me be the one to save you_

_Gravity don't mean too much to me_

_I'm who I've got to be_

_These pigs are after me, after you_

 

 

“He’s going to be fine… calm down and…”

“Somebody hold his legs… kicks someone”

“… just shut up already, I told you…”

“... freaking out or get the hell…”

Grantaire opened his eyes.

Everything was glossy and nothing made sense. His vision was unfocused and blurry, he could only make out the golden halo above his head and something that could be blue eyes creased in a worried expression. His heart throbbed in his chest wildly, the jolt of pain in his shoulder completely forgotten as his mind started to wonder: “is that Enjolras? Is he right above me?”

“Can you hear me?” asked an unfamiliar female voice.

Grantaire frowned. As his vision cleared and he recovered his senses, he took in the situation. They were moving. Actually, they were inside the car, or a car, since he was too confused to be sure if that was, indeed, their car. A blonde woman was cradling his head on her lap, a woman he had never seen in his entire life. Grantaire was still drunk and had likely passed out – he was still confused – but he managed to quickly take his gun on his belt and put it to the woman’s head in a quick movement.

“Who the fuck are you?” he yelled, voice raspy. She raised her hands in a defending gesture, eyes wide and surprised. Whoever was driving the car pulled the breaks abruptly, and suddenly there was a hand on his own, trying to calm him down, and Bahorel was there, taking the gun away from him and talking something he couldn’t hear because his ears were ringing. He got up from the woman’s lap quickly, deciding to avoid any contact with the foreign person until he was sure she could be trusted. That was clearly a mistake because the sudden movement made him go dizzy and his ears ring even louder, engulfing all sound around him. He couldn’t tell if it was because he was still drunk or for another reason, but before he could mutter any response to whatever Bahorel was saying, he passed out again.

~

The next time he woke up, he was no longer on the car. As he looked around, he found himself on his shared room back in their shelter, lying by himself on the bed, chest bare and only covered by a thin blanket. There was no one on the room and the door was closed – which was uncommon -, and Grantaire felt as if he had been trampled by a herd of elephants three times in a row. The memories of what happened suddenly rushed before his eyes and he remembered everything that had happened, and the first two thoughts that he had were: “can being shot in the shoulder hurt this much and knock me out?” and “oh my god is everyone ok?”.

At the latter, he decided to get up and go after his friends (who, in fact, were supposed to be in the goddamn room too, it was also their room). Feeling a little dizzy at first but quickly recovering his balance, he made it to the door, and only when he leaned against the wall to open it he noticed his hands and forearms were bandaged just as his injured shoulder. He couldn’t understand why, but his friends probably could. He grabbed the doorknob and twisted it, pulling the door wide open, just to find a bewildered Enjolras with his hand raised midair as if he had been about to knock on the door. The blonde stared at him for a couple seconds in utter surprise, just to assume an angry expression – which was not uncommon – and start yelling at Grantaire – which was also not uncommon.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing!” he demanded, grabbing Grantaire by his good arm and practically dragging him back to the bed.

“What?” was all that the drunkard could ask, as Enjolras shoved him into the bed and pulled a blanket over him like a mother hen. This made Grantaire blush.

“What’s happening? Is everyone ok?”

“Yes, everyone is fine, now care to explain what you were doing on your feet?”

“I was going to look for you guys since I woke up after god knows how long and found the room empty!” Grantaire said, exasperated. At this, Enjolras’ expression softened and he dragged a chair to sit beside Grantaire’s bed. The raven was already trying to get up again, but one look from Enjolras’ eyes was enough to make him sit still. “What’s going on?” Grantaire asked after a few seconds of tense silence.

“What do you remember?”

“Where the hell is Joly?” Grantaire said, in a joking manner, since the mere presence of Enjolras there beside him was enough to fasten his heartbeats. But he had to admit Joly was a doctor, and would know how to deal with this way better than Enjolras, probably.

“He’s treating Marius” Enjolras explained.

“Why? What happened?”

“Look, you got shot. And you were so goddamn drunk you didn’t spare a thought for your condition, and came after us anyway. Shot, and then you lit a fire on one of our ways out, and how you managed to not burn to death, we have no idea. You’ve got second degree burns on your hands and forearms, Grantaire, your bloody clothes were on fire when we finally spared a look at you! Have you no sense of self preservation?”

“You’re welcome” he said through a grin. Enjolras looked like he was trying very hard not to strangle him.

“Yes, I suppose I owe you gratitude for helping us out”.

“You don’t owe me anything, Apollo. I did that because I wanted to. I wouldn’t leave you behind”.

“We could manage it”.

“Nah, you couldn’t. And you know that”.

“Fine, you were very useful. And we’d probably face a lot more difficulties if you hadn’t showed up when you did. Thank you, Grantaire”.

“No problem. What about Marius?”

Enjolras sighed.

“When he and Bahorel were heading to the car, a girl appeared out of nowhere and started shooting S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/Ws down with a stolen laser gun. Apparently there were still a few people living in the facility. Marius says she saved his life and convinced Bahorel to take her with them. They got to the car but Marius got shot in the leg. She says she has some medical training too, and managed to calm down the both of you with the spare medical kit in the car. Her name’s Cosette”.

“Oh, so she’s the blondie?”

“The one you threatened with a gun? Yes”.

“I think I owe her an apology. Although she can’t blame me for it, really, I wasn’t completely conscious at the moment and I had my head on the lap of a complete stranger. Not the first time, really, but a man gets confused…”

“Can’t you ever shut up?” Enjolras asked, annoyed.

“Not really” Grantaire said, grinning again. “Unless someone makes me”.

Enjolras rolled his eyes and sighed, getting up.

“I’ll see if Joly is done with Marius and fetch him for you. Try not to kill yourself while I’m gone, will you?”

“No problem, ‘Pollo. Miss you already” When Enjolras was about to exit the bedroom, Grantaire called him, not sure what to say next. “Enjolras?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you” he said after a moment of hesitation. “For not leaving me behind”.

“I would never do that” Enjolras said, surprised.

“Thank you anyway”. With a nod, the blond leader left and Grantaire was all alone again, in the empty room, with only his thoughts and the promise of Joly’s reassuring presence as his company.

~

“You absolute, complete, utter MORON!” Éponine yelled at him as soon as she entered the room. Joly had just gotten out, telling Grantaire he was supposed to get bed rest for at least a week and not work too much his injured shoulder for at least a month. His burns would heal with time but some of them would leave a mark; Grantaire didn’t really care about that. It was not like a few more scars would make him even uglier.

“Love you too, ‘Ponine. What’s up?”

“What’s up? What’s up?! Jesus Christ, I’ll tell you what’s up! You go out in a fucking mission you only wanted to go so you’d get better chances to make out with Enjolras…”

“Shhhhhh! What the fuck do you think you’re doing, keep your voice down!”

“… and you say you’re gonna be ok but as soon as you leave I see my whole stock of tequila is gone! Not a single drop left! And when everyone gets back I’m ready to fucking yell at you until your brains explode but I can’t because you’re looking like death itself! Holy shit Grantaire, do you have any idea how much you scared me? I thought you were dead!” she continued to scream. At this, Grantaire lowered his eyes.

“Sorry, Ép”.

“Sorry my ass! You’d do it again!” Grantaire didn’t answer. “And when I finally manage to lock Gavroche down with Azelma because the both of them can’t stop screaming because they SAW you, and get to your fucking greek god and ask what the hell had happened, he simply IGNORES me because he’s having a goddamn panic attack and fucking Bahorel has to explain everything to me! Bahorel! Have you ever head Bahorel explain something? He can’t explain shit!”

“I thought he went to law school” Grantaire said, confused.

“Why do you think he left? But that’s not the point, oh my god, don’t you dare change the subject. We’re talking about this”.

“I already told you I’m sorry, what do you want me to do?” Grantaire said, a little exasperated.

“Just fucking promise me you won’t do anything like this again!”

“I’m alive, aren’t I?” Grantaire said, sounding colder than he had intended. Éponine looked hurt.

“Thank god you are. But what if you weren’t?”

“Then I’d be dead. Stop acting as if this is a big deal. Everyone dies, Ép”.

He hadn’t expected the slap.

He looked at her, shocked, and she was nearly purple with anger. Grantaire had never seen her this angry. Perhaps it was time to behave.

“Don’t you dare. Don’t you fucking dare. Don’t you fucking dare diminish your life like that! How do you think I’d feel if you died? How do you think Gavroche would feel? And Azelma? And Bahorel? And Joly, and Bossuet, and Courfeyrac, and Marius, and Combeferre, and every single person who lives in this godforsaken place? What about Enjolras?”

“He wouldn’t miss me” he said, ignoring his brain telling him to shut up. “In fact, I’m pretty sure he would be gl…”

He got slapped again.

“I think you should stop doing that” he complained, raising his hand to his sore cheek.

“I’ll stop when you stop being a dick!” she yelled. Then Joly – saint Joly – opened the door slightly, only his head showing through the doorway, and asked, shyly:

“Uh, is everything okay here? We can hear you from the living room”.

“Get out!” she screamed and Joly did as he was told without a second warning. “Grantaire, listen to me carefully because I’m not going to say this again” Éponine hissed, seriously, leaning on the edge of the bed and keeping her face millimeters away from his. He could practically see the fire burning inside her eyes. “Your life matter. You matter. Stop thinking no one gives a damn about you because there are quite a lot of people who do. Please. I know it’s hard to you, because of your severe self esteem issues and self depreciation, but please, R? Please don’t endanger your life like this anymore. You could have died. I thought you were dead, I freaked out. Everyone here freaked out. Bahorel looked like he was about to punch a hole through our faces, Feuilly was sweating like a pig, Marius was screaming because he got shot too and oh my god, you should have seen Enjolras”.

“How was he?” Grantaire couldn’t help but to ask.

“I had never seen him more nervous. He locked himself in the bathroom and everyone could hear him heavy breathing and dry heaving, Joly said he was having a panic attack. He stayed there for nearly one hour and only let Combeferre in. First thing he did when he got out was to check on you”.

Grantaire felt something warm inside his chest, something he hadn’t felt in years.

“Really?”

“Oh, stop teenage-girling me. You’re all blushed right now, you should see your face, it’s fucking hilarious” she said, laughing.

“Oh yeah? How about Monsieur Pontmercy, then?”

Éponine’s laughter died within seconds.

“… what?” Grantaire asked.

“He… well, hmm, he got shot, and Joly was too busy taking care of you because you had burns all over your body, so… Yeah, that blond girl that came with you guys, she’s some kind of doctor or nurse, I don’t know, and she took care of him while Joly was busy. I think there’s something going on”.

“Oh, Ép, I’m pretty sure it’s just your imagination”.

Éponine glared at him.

“And I’m pretty sure it’s not. Really, she’s sleeping in his room now. They’re all getting around. She’s kinda cute, to be honest, but, well. Guess she’s just not my type”.

“I didn’t get to know her” Grantaire said, because he wasn’t sure about what else to say.

“Well, I didn’t bother too much on hearing her tragic life story. I’m not sure anyone but Enjolras – and probably Marius – did. I think she’ll be introduced on today’s meeting”.

“What? We just came back from that crazy ass mission like hours ago and there’s already a meeting planned?”

Éponine stared at him.

“Grantaire. You guys came back three days ago”.

Grantaire snorted.

“Fuck off”.

“I’m serious”.

“There’s no way I was out for three days”.

“But you were. Joly found it odd too, so we took one of the guns you stole from the facility and checked it out. Looks like they’re improving their weapons; the one we tested had some kind of chemical that improves the damage of the shot or something. I’m no expert, Joly and Combeferre can explain that better to you. Anyway, the only reason you didn’t feel much pain was because you were drunk out of your mind”.

“I didn’t even drink that much” he protested half-heartedly.

“Yeah, right. Anyway. The meeting will start now, or, I don’t know, probably already started. You feel good enough to join us? Or does Sleeping Beauty wish to remain in her royal bed?”

“Fuck you” Grantaire said, getting up from the bed and proposefully leaning a lot of his weight on Éponine, who took it easily.

“You wish”.

“Why isn’t anybody using the room anyway?”

“Joly said you needed to rest, so we scattered around the other rooms”.

“That wasn’t necessary; you guys could’ve stayed there. In fact I want you all back right away”.

“Well look who’s all bossy now. You better keep it to yourself today tough, R, Enjolras is not in his best humor”.

“Has this ever stopped me before?”

Éponine sighed but gave him a small grin. As they reached the small living room, everyone stopped talking and looked at him. Instantly, Grantaire felt uncomfortable, and made way to his usual spot in the corner, Éponine beside him. He sat down between Bahorel and Bossuet, Éponine sitting on the floor between his legs and leaning her head on his knee.

“Glad to see you awake, man” Bahorel said, smiling at him and punching him lightly on the good shoulder.

“Good to see you’re recovering, R” Bossuet greeted.

“Jeez, you’re all talking as if I almost died or something” he said, smiling. He noticed Enjolras making a small pause at his ongoing speech, just to start talking again in a couple seconds.

“That’s because you couldn’t see yourself as you arrived here, R” Bossuet explained. “We all thought the worse”.

“Yeah. You were pretty fucked up. When you guys got to the car, we all freaked out. You kept zoning in and out, you couldn’t stay awake, it was… well, it wasn’t pleasant” Bahorel said.

“Yeah… sorry about that” Grantaire muttered. He kept saying he was sorry but he would do it again, which made him feel a little bad for lying.

“Is the conversation good there? Would you like us to join you since is so much interesting than what we’re planning?” Enjolras asked, loudly, with sarcasm in his tone, which was very unusual. Grantaire nearly frowned.

“No, sorry, it’s okay. We’re shutting up” Bossuet said. Enjolras stared at them for a moment before going back to whatever he was talking about to the others.

“Was that Enjolras being sarcastic?” Bahorel asked, looking as astonished as Grantaire felt.

“I think it was” said Éponine, grinning. “Looks like our little Grantaire here being hurt made the leader very upset” she teased.

“Shut it” Grantaire said.

“What?” Bossuet asked, confused, obviously having no idea what they were talking about. Joly, per usual appearing at the best time, approached them and sat beside Bossuet, whispering.

“Seriously, you guys, try being quiet. Enjolras is getting quite annoyed at you and you’re kind of interrupting the new girl on her introducing speech”.

“Sorry, Jol. We’ll behave” said Bossuet.

“He will” said Grantaire. “So, what’s up with the new chick?”

“Perhaps if you listened to her you’d find out” Joly whispered.

“Nah, you know I prefer your voice. You’re cuter” the raven teased.

“She used to live there with her father. They were planning on leaving this week” Joly explained, sighing. “When you guys blew everything up, her father was out. She went searching for him, but found you instead. She was a little bit reluctant about coming here and leaving him behind, but apparently Marius promised they’d go back for him. Also, they were being shot at and BL would probably find out she helped us and interrogate her if she stayed. If you know what I mean by interrogate”.

“Whoa, that’s tough” Grantaire answered. “I feel bad for her. Where’s my wine?”

Joly glared at him in disbelief.

“You’re not drinking, at least not for a week”.

“Like hell I’m not. Éponine, where’s my wine?”

But she didn’t even dare looking him in the eyes. Her eyes followed the new girl, Cosette, around the room, but the raven was sure she was barely listening to whatever she was saying.

“Oh, not you too. Where. Is. My. Wine?”

“Sorry, R. Doctor’s orders” she muttered.

“You Judas! You… you Brutus! You…!” he accused, only stopping when receiving another glare from Enjolras. “Do you honestly think this is going to work? According to what I was told, I was unconscious for three days, which means three days without booze. I’ve been drinking for years non-stop now, Joly, what do you think withdrawal will do to me at this point? You’re a doctor, c’mon. You guys can’t afford to have me hallucinating with high fever and puking everywhere. You’d be safer giving me my alcohol and leaving me alone than hiding it from me”.

Joly stared at him for a long time, weighting his words. Finally, with a sigh, he gave in, shaking his head.

“Alright, R, but please, don’t drink too much okay? You’re still injured and I don’t know how these chemicals react with alcohol, so please take it easy?”

“You’ve got my word” he said, tongue craving for a sip. Joly got up and went to the freezer where they kept all their drinks. He came back with a bottle of vodka.

“’Ponine drank all your wine. She says you’re the one to blame” he explained.

“Well, you stole my tequila, you douche, so I drank your wine” she accused.

“Because I was…”

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Enjolras’ voice cut him off. Everyone in the room immediately stared at them. Grantaire cleaned his throat, uncomfortable.

“We were talking”.

“Yes, we all could hear you very well. I mean what do you think you’re doing with that beverage?”

God bless Enjolras for calling cheap stolen vodka beverage, thought Grantaire.

“I was planning on drinking it” he said, matter-of-factly.

“And are you out of your mind?”

“When am I not?” he said, grinning, and gaining a few laughter across the room. A glare from Enjolras silenced them all.

“You are injured. You must rest, not drink yourself ridiculous like you’re used to. We all seen what happened last time you did that”.

Something unpleasant twisted in Grantaire’s belly. He took a long sip of the vodka in his hand, cherishing on how it burned his throat, before replying in a hoarse voice.

“You’re welcome again”.

“I don’t mean to be ungrateful, but as I told you, we would have done just fine if you had stayed back and did as you were told!”

“Enjolras” Combeferre said, warning.

“No, I’m right. If he had followed the plan, everything would have turned out okay, there weren’t many vampires and we wouldn’t have lost one of the cars!”

“There weren’t many vampires because I fucking burned most of them, that’s why” Grantaire said, angry. He didn’t know about the car, nobody had told him that, but he would pretend he hadn’t heard that part.

“And nearly burned yourself with them!”

“So what? At least you all would have made it alive. Like you did, by the way, so again, you’re welcome” he took another long sip, reaching half of the bottom and already feeling a little tipsy. Apparently those three days of abstinence were catching on him.

“Stop pretending you did this for altruism when we all know you did it because you were dead drunk and couldn’t think straight! Had you been on you proper mind you would have realized the stupidity of the plan. You have never given a shit about this revolution, why would you die for it?”

“I wouldn’t die for it, I would die for you!” he said, only realizing the meaning of his words after it was too late. However, where everyone else stood silence in shock, Enjolras snorted sarcastically. Something inside Grantaire’s chest hurt.

“Yes, maybe you can fool everyone here, but not me, Grantaire. I can see you. You care not for anything but yourself and your booze. And maybe wherever you lived before you found us they accepted this self-destructive behavior of yours, but not here. Whether you help us change the world, or you can go find somewhere else to drink”.

“Enjolras” Combeferre said again, hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“So you want me to choose between your pretty little revolutionary group and my booze?” he asked, angry.

“Yes” Enjolras said.

“Well, fuck you then. You can take a laser gun and shove it deep up your pretentious ass” Grantaire said, getting up slowly so he wouldn’t trip and making way for the fridge. It didn’t work since they had no electricity, but it was still a good place to keep their drinks and canned food. He opened the door and grabbed as many vodka bottles he managed to, along with the one he already had in hands, and went to the door, ignoring Éponine’s, Joly’s and Bahorel’s calls for him to go back. “Oh, and again, you’re fucking welcome for saving your life”. He slammed the door with all the might he could manage, since his hands were busy and he had to pull it with his foot.

 

_I'm shooting out of this room_

_Because they sure don't like the company_

_You stop your preaching right there_

_'Cause I really don't care and I'll do it again_

 

~

“Today should be declared the official day of fucking” said Courfeyrac.

“What?” said Combeferre, confused.

“I don’t think I have ever heard Éponine say that many ‘fucks’ on the same day, and she usually swears a lot”.

“Yeah… she was quite angry” Jehan agreed.

“No wonder why, though. No one’s seen R yet since he stormed out” Bossuet added.

“He should come back immediately, oh my god. The treatment for his wound isn’t completed yet, it might get bad if I don’t switch the bandages soon enough” Joly announced.

“Fucking bastard” they heard Éponine’s voice coming from the hallway.

“How’s it going, Ép?” Combeferre asked, shyly.

“A fucking mess” she answered, making Courfeyrac and Jehan wink at each other. “Bahorel’s still looking for R; no car or motorcycle is missing so he can’t be too far away. But he’s fucking drunk and injured, he could be doing anything, I swear to god I’ll never forgive Enjolras for doing this”.

“He was just worried about Grantaire, that’s his dumb way of showing it” Combeferre answered half-heartedly.

“His way of showing he cares is fucking snorting at R’s declaration and proceeding to make him choose between his life-threatening addiction or his smart arse? Spare me. He’s a dick, Jesus, he’s such a dick, I’ll punch him in the face if I see him right now”.

“There are still no news about him?” Enjolras asked from the hallway, suddenly. Éponine tried to get up, hands fisted, but Combeferre placed a firm yet tender hand on her shoulder, pulling her back down.

“Why don’t you get out there and search for him yourself since you’re the one who started this whole shit?” she asked.

Enjolras blinked at her, as if he hadn’t understood.

“I’m sorry, but all my…”

“No”.

“What?”

“No, you’re not sorry”.

“Well, but I am…”

“No”.

“Will you just let me fin…”

“No. Fuck you. Shut up”.

“Listen, Éponine…”

“I’m not the one who’s supposed to be listening to you! I’m not the one who’s supposed to hear you apologies! I’m not the one who’s supposed to even look at your face right now!”

“Éponine…”

“NO”.

“Alright. Alright. I’ll be on my way. I just wanted to say I’m sorry for… losing my temper tonight. I said things I shouldn’t have, and I was ungrateful”.

“That’s cute, but I don’t give a shit. I’m not the one you should be telling this to”.

Enjolras merely nodded, and left the room.

“Whoa. I had never seen anyone silence Enjolras like that, not even Grantaire” said Courfeyrac, surprised.

“That’s only because he knows he’s wrong” Éponine said.

Combeferre looked at her, amused.

“You are really angry, aren’t you?”

“Of course. He stepped on my injured best friend and made him get out in the middle of the night with booze. Did you hear him snorting at Grantaire? Oh my god, I want to punch him so hard”.

“Enjolras doesn’t… know how to deal with this, Ép. I’m pretty sure he didn’t even realize what Grantaire was saying”.

“He can’t be that oblivious” Jehan protested.

“Oh, but he is” said Courfeyrac. “One time when we were 12, some girl from our school was head over hills for him, and kept sending him anonymous letters and notes with little cards on it, telling him how pretty he was and that she wanted to be his girlfriend. She never gave them personally, just placed it on his backpack when he wasn’t looking. But one day, on valentine’s day, she built up some courage and went over to him, saying she liked him and asking him if he wanted to go out with her”.

“Please don’t finish this story” asked Éponine covering her face with both her hands and leaning on Combeferre, who blushed.

“Anyway” continued Courfeyrac, “She asked in front of everyone, literally every single person in our class, because she was so sure he would say yes. But do you no what he said? ‘Thank you very much, but no. I have plans for this evening’. And then he walked away. Just like that”.

“Jesus Christ” moaned Éponine, falling on Combeferre’s lap, still covering her face as if she was in great pain.

“But he didn’t mean to hurt her, I know that. He’s just… not good. With all of this human relation thing. He thought simply telling the girl her feelings were not corresponded would settle it, as if they would simply go away. He’ll have to learn it the hard way, I guess”.

“The poor thing” said Jeah, looking sad. “Perhaps we should try talking to him”.

“Maybe we should” agreed Combeferre, who was now shyly combing Éponine’s hair with his fingers, and whose face was red as a tomato. Éponine was still cringing and emitting moans as if she was in great pain because of the story.

“Whatever happened to the poor girl?” asked Jehan, curious.

“Ah, she cried a lot. But she seemed a little happier when I asked her out and we made out in the movies” said Courfeyrac, grinning. Jehan punched him lightly on the shoulder.

“You prick!”

“What, was I supposed to leave her miserable and all alone? I couldn’t do that, I’m not that mean” Courfeyrac teased.

They carried a lighthearted yet tense conversation, even though their friend was missing. Maybe Enjolras was oblivious, but the rest of them knew which one Grantaire would choose, if it came to it. And the drunkard would eventually return to their side, or so they hoped.

~

“I hope it was worth it” Enjolras muttered through clenched teeth, while dragging Grantaire along as he tried not to fall down from the man’s weight. The raven was leaning hard against him, out of drunkness and tiredness, and he kept threatening to fall every other minute.

“Dang right it was worth it ‘Pollo” he slurred.

“Really? Drinking literally all of your bottles and getting lost in the abandoned city?”

“You’re just jealous because I had my mouth on the bottles and not on you” he slurred, clearly not controlling what he was saying on his drunken speech. Thankfully, he was not able to see the blond leader blush, since his head was bowed down.

“Shut it, Grantaire” he muttered, embarrassed.

“Make me” the drunk man provoked.

“Why do you always have a snarky answer for everything I say?”

“Now, now, don’t feel so special. I have a snarky answer for everything everyone says”.

“I am forced to agree with that”.

“Well, that’s a first?”

“Excuse me?”

“That’s the first time you agree with me”.

Enjolras wanted to argue, but as he searched his mind for any moment he had agreed with Grantaire, he found none.

“I believe you’re right”.

“There! Second!” Grantaire laughed and Enjolras couldn’t help but laugh along.

They were going back to their temporary apartment and were half way there. Bahorel and Enjolras had decided to split up in their search, since that way they would be able to find Grantaire faster. Enjolras had been the first, luckily, and found Grantaire embarrassingly pole dancing on a lamppost, all bottles he had taken with him now lying empty on the ground.

“Join me Enjyyyyyy” he had invited as he did a meticulous yet drunken spin on the post.

“Don’t call me Enjy. Get down, we’re going back”.

“Nah, I made my choice. My booze” he said, still pole dancing.

“Alright, we’ll talk about that when you’re sober”.

“Then never”.

“Just get down from there and stop dancing, it’ll injure your shoulder further”.

“I can’t feel it”. “Because you’re drunk. You’ll feel it in the morning”.

“Nah”.

“Just get down and let’s go”.

“Be polite”.

Enjolras sighed.

“Please, just get down and let’s go”

“Ayyyy” he had said, getting down from the post and stumbling over to where Enjolras stood. “I like politeness”.

“Who would’ve known” Enjolras had muttered.

Now Grantaire was leaning harder on him as time passed and they approached the building. He was supposed to wait for Bahorel in their meeting spot, but Enjolras wouldn’t allow his drunk friend to stand there, on the cold street, for longer than necessary.

“I’m sorry” he said, nearly whispered on the raven’s ear, as they went. “I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful. I was just worried about what could’ve happened to you”.

“Why?” Grantaire asked, sleepy.

“Because you’re my friend and I care about you. Will you accept my apology?

“What’s in the past is in the past, Apollo. It’s okay”.

“Promise me you’ll take better care of yourself”.

Grantaire moaned.

“Promise me”.

“I will”.

“And will you try to lessen your drinking habits?”

“Enjolrassssssss” he hissed, annoyed.

“Will you?”

“Maybe. Alright. I’ll try” he gave in.

“Good. We’re almost there” he alerted. As they reached the building, Feuilly and Joly were guarding the door, and a very nervous Bahorel was also there, looking like he had just arrived.

“Oh good, you’ve found him” said Bahorel, approaching the duo and helping Enjolras to carry the man inside.“Is he hurt? Where was he?”

“I think he’s fine. He was merely a mile away from here, I found him dancing around a lamppost”.

Bahorel laughed.

“You little fucker!” he said.

“A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do” Grantaire muttered in response, with a grin.

“You’re so drunk you can’t even walk straight! How crazy is that?”

“Really, really crazy since there are two Feuillys in front of me right now. How’s it going bros?”

“Hey there, R. You scared the shit out of us” Feuilly greeted.

“You are a mad man!” Joly reprehended. “I told you not to drink too much! I’ll never trust you with a bottle again!”

“I love you too, Jol” he slurred.

“You said he was dancing?” Joly asked, addressing Enjolras.

“To be more specific he was pole dancing”. Joly stared at Grantaire with disbelief in his eyes before he slapped the man hard on the head.

“Ouch! What was that for!” Grantaire complained.

“You’re not leaving my watch ever again until you’re 100% healed!”

“Easy, Joly. Let’s just take him inside” Feuilly said.

“Yeah, inside is good” muttered Grantaire, nearly falling. Enjolras tightened his grip around the man’s waist to keep his balance.

“Enjolras!” said Combeferre, rushing from inside the building with a terrified face.

“We found him, it’s ok. Go tell Éponine” Enjolras said.

“You need to go in, now” Combeferre said.

“What’s wrong?” the blond frowned.

“Please, you must remain calm. Try not to freak out, alright? Let Bahorel get R and just come in”.

Enjolras stared at his long dated friend trying to search for any signs of what the problem might be. He couldn’t. He let Bahorel take Grantaire in his stronger arms – ignoring the raven’s calls of “Enjyyy” – and went to Combeferre’s side, never taking his eyes off the brunette. Putting a reassuring hand on the blonde’s shoulder, Combeferre whispered:

“Enjolras, try to keep your cool. We can’t have you losing your temper any more this night”.

“Just tell me what’s wrong”.

Combeferre leaded him inside, where everyone was gathered in the living room. Marius was on his feet, leaning on a homemade crutch because of his injured leg, and he limped pitifully to where Enjolras was standing, confused.

“Did Combeferre tell you?” he asked, keeping his voice down.

“Has it ended?” Combeferre asked.

“Yes, but we managed to record it. Even though I have no doubts they will broadcast it again tomorrow”.

“Will someone tell me what’s going on?” Enjolras bursted. Combeferre walked to one of the only televisions they had found on the building and turned it on. They had taken that television so that they’d be able to receive BL’s security messages, that they broadcasted sometimes to ”warn” the population about something happening in the forbidden outside world. BL usually used to induce fear on people’s heart and stop them from ever wanting to go outside their boarders, but it was also useful for the Amis to know what was happening and what they thought about them. Putting it on the emergency channel, Combeferre set the volume to it’s highest and went back to Enjolras’s side.

The image on the TV was blurry and the sound, static, but in a couple seconds the image steadied and Enjolras was faced with the figure of his father, sitting on a chair as if he was being interviewed.

“So you have identified the terrorist as your disinherited son?” asked an unfamiliar, robotic voice.

“Yes” said his father. His face was much, much older than Enjolras remembered; not that many years had passed, but the excessive drinking and the constant drug use must have been taking their tolls. “He ran away years ago; the kid was a rebel, a troublemaker – when I tried to tame him he ran away. He murdered his mother and attempted to murder me too… if it hadn’t been for the S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/Ws, he would probably have succeeded”.

“What are his reasons for this vicious, disgraceful terrorist attack against the Better Living Industries, which only care about its population’s wellbeing?” the voice asked.

“The kid’s got problems. He has always have. He probably thinks there is a better world out there, a better life for the people that live here. But let me tell you, there’s not. This whole dream is just an illusion. The only life we know now – the only good life – is here, at the BL’s facilities and incorporated radiation-free zones”.

“Do you condemn your son’s actions?”

“He’s not my son”.

“Do you condemn the terrorist’s actions?”

“Yes”.

“And do you think conceiving forgiveness for the terrorist is a viable option, were he to return to one the protected zones asking for so?”

“I seriously doubt he’d ever return asking for forgiveness. If he’s as smart as he wants people to think he is, he’ll be running like crazy the farthest he can from any BL facility. But as I said, the kid has got problems. I don’t see the problem in granting him or his allies forgiveness, if they promise to maintain peace and never riot against BL again”.

“Tell him that”.

His father sighed.

“Do I really need to?”

“Tell him that”.

“Enjolras. If you’re watching this, be advised that if you want to put a stop to this nonsense, just return to BL. They won’t hurt you, kid. They only mean well. They only mean well for us all. Come back. Stop this nonsense. Why are you doing this anyway? Listen to my words, this will only bring pain, and suffering. Return while you can, while they’re willing to have you. If you keep this little cat and mouse play, you’ll end up on your knees, with the lives of all your men on your hands, and then it’ll be too late”.

The image went static again and BL’s symbol filled the screen. The same robotic voice started to speak again.

“The terrorist identified as Enjolras, who’s the main responsible for the vicious attack on one of the Better Living Industries and the transmission on a hate-inducing message, is still on the run with his group of outlaws. Any sort of affiliation with this man or his terrorist group will result on immediate disseverance from the Better Living Industries and banning from any facility or common living areas. Next, on the breaking news: Better Living Industries’ specialized doctors have tested a new medication made especially for your wellbeing today! The test was a complete success and the medication will be available in…”

Someone shut the TV off. All eyes in the room were locked on Enjolras. Even Grantaire, Bahorel, Joly and Feuilly, who had entered the room somewhere in the middle of the transmission, were looking at him, questioning.

“Are you okay?” Combeferre asked, hand still on the blonde’s shoulder.

“He said I murdered my mother” was all Enjolras answered, merely a whisper.

“Are you alright, Enjolras?” Combeferre asked, worried. Enjolras nodded, face impassive.

“That’s not all. They made one for me, too” Marius said.

“Let me see it” Enjolras asked, barely looking at neither of them.

“Are you sure you want to see it now?” Combeferre asked. He nodded again. Combeferre turned the TV on again, and this time Enjolras was met with the face of an old man, looking to be at least 70 years old, with an important air and elegant posture.

“Has your relative been on the terrorist attack?”

“I cannot be sure. If he was on the video, I could not identify him”.

“What is your relation with him?”

“He is my grandson”.

“Why has he left Better Living Industries?”

“The naivety of a young man. He used to believe that there is no radiation outside the zones, and that we should all leave the facilities and go leave outside. He had dreams of freedom, and equality”.

“Where did this dreams come from?”

“I don’t know. The books, the programs he watched before the helium war. I can’t tell. All I know is I tried to dissuade him from his foolishness, but he didn’t listen to me”.

“Would you want to send him a message?”

“Yes, thank you. Marius, please, if you’re listening to this, return home. Return to us. The life we have here is infinitely better than the one you could ever find out there. Come back, my son, while the radiation hasn’t caught you, and while they will still have you and forgive your actions. If you’re listening to this, please come back”.

“Thank you, Monsieur Pontmercy”.

The broadcasting was cut off and they were all met with static again. Combeferre turned the TV off. There was a long moment of silence that felt like years before someone spoke up.

“What are we going to do now?” Courfeyrac asked.

Enjolras didn’t dare to look any of their friends in the eyes.

“They know my name. They know I’m the leader and they suspect Marius may be involved. They aren’t sure of anything else. We can’t stop now. We need to keep running, hide better, where they can never find us. We already blew up one of their transmission stations, accomplished our first goal. Now we need to make them feel safe again, make them believe they’ve scared us off, that we’re no longer a threat. We stay quiet for some time. We keep printing our propaganda posters, invitations to meetings – only for people we can trust, Feuilly can make a little research on that – and we keep sending our message, only in more discreet ways”.

“And then what?” Feuilly asked.

“Then” Enjolras said, “we give them the biggest rally they have ever seen”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, in my opinion, this chapter is absolute shit. But tell me how you feel on the comments! Thank you for reading and, as usual, kudos and constructive criticism is always apreciated.


	4. Sing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to make very clear I've never been to France so I apologize in advance if I got anything wrong (which I probably did).

_And raise your voice_   
_Every single time they try and shut your mouth_

_Sing it for the boys_   
_Sing it for the girls_   
_Every time that you lose it sing it for the world_   
_Sing it from the heart_   
_Sing it till you're nuts_   
_Sing it out for the ones that'll hate your guts_   
_Sing it for the deaf_   
_Sing it for the blind_   
_Sing about everyone that you left behind_

_Sing it for the world_

_Sing it for the world_

 

 

 

            Finally, it was the big day.

            Everyone could feel and share Enjolras’ excitement, even Grantaire – it was like a mist of pure adrenaline and anticipation floating in the air and entering everyone’s minds. Gavroche and Azelma weren’t going to attend the rally (“not even in your wildest dreams!” Éponine had said) but they were just as excited to offer the slightest help they could as any other member of the Amis.

            They had spent months since the factory break-in organizing and secretly spreading word of the upcoming rally. It was very hard to warn people of their meetings and plans – they were kilometers away from the nearest inhabited BL/ind. facility and it was difficult knowing which people were trustworthy and which were ready to betray them any second. Thank god they had Feuilly – the man basically had a radar that caught the lying ones right away. Also, he used to live in that one facility, so he knew exactly who to contact should any doubt about someone’s loyalty emerge. His contacts contacted other contacts in other facilities, and soon, their message was being secretly broadcast by whispers and gossips from those who were getting fed up with BL’s manipulative and dictatorial ways.

            It took them a while to spread word around almost all of France’s habitants and BL sure knew something was about to happen, but since no one but the Amis knew the exact location of their base, it was extremely hard to catch them. They’ve had attacks on three different occasions while on their way back to the base and Enjolras considered changing places all of those times, but they all agreed it’d be better to leave the whole moving-out-of-base for after the big rally. By the end of little more than six months, they were ready and with approximately three thousand people out of the 10 thousand inhabitants of  France on their side. For a first rally on these proportions, it was a huge amount of people. But Enjolras had gotten everything sorted: they had manage to take at least two hundred laser guns and ammunition from dead vampires or abandoned shelters and facilities, so they had ways to properly defend the protesters should complications arise – and they would. Bahorel had trained every single one of the Amis on close combat (even little Azelma, despite Éponine’s clear warning she would not going anywhere near the rally) and taught self-defense and weak points to shoot at to easily take the opponent down. Feuilly had already stablished easy run away routes and given each ami one copy of the city map and their possible emergency meeting points. Joly had taught everyone the most basic first aid discipline. Everyone was ready and beaming with excitement for what promised to be a big step on their activism.

            But none of them beamed brighter than Enjolras. The blond, naturally owner of a inhuman beauty, was practically shining like a dying star. His eyes were ablaze with what could only be defined as pure passion, and his strong jaw set with righteous determination. Were not for the life and excitement clearly radiating incessantly from him, Grantaire would have described him as more like marble than ever.

            But at last the time had come and the rally day arrived. They were all aware that what was about to be done was very dangerous, and since BL was already onto them, they were probably ready to strike back. This event could cost them their lives. Yet, even though a thick tension paired in the air between them, they all forgot about their fears with a mere glance at Enjolras’ frame. His godlike features and radiating confidence filled the room with a calmness and easiness only true leaders could provide. And not for the first time, all the Amis saw themselves caught in Enjolras’ natural spell just as much as Grantaire himself did all the time.

            The plan was not too complicated. They would spread into three groups: Bahorel and Feuilly on the first car to cover their front, Joly and Bossuet driving separate cars to be able to have room to people possibly wanting to join them, Enjolras, Combeferre, Courfeyrac and Jehan in the middle car, and Grantaire and Éponine in the third to cover their back. Marius and Cosette would stay at the base with Gavroche, Azelma and Céline until one hour after they left, and then the four would move on with all their stuff from their old base at Amiens to their new one that they had set in Rouen. Enjolras would give a speech to the public in front of the ruins of the Louvre, convince them to join them on the next uprisings and the revolution. Bahorel and Feuilly would be responsible for arming the people with the stolen guns, with the aid of Grantaire and Éponine, and when the vampires attacked them – because they would attack -, Enjolras would fight alongside the people and against their common enemy. This would only be the second step of their revolution, of course, but still, proving to the people that they had the smallest chance of changing the status quo and ending the narcotic-slavery terror BL/ind. was inducing was vital to the movement. Getting more people to their side was a security blanket against possible failure. They should leave the commotion as soon as possible and meet up on the cars, and then make way for the old base to foil possible pursuers. They would then wait an overnight and finally make way to Rouen, to meet Marius, Cosette, Céline and the little Thenárdiers.

            If things went according to plans.

            Before they all left, Enjolras gave them a last motivational speech. Of course this wasn’t going to be their last rally, or their last uprising, but still a thick tension paired in the air, menacing. They could very well lose men that day. They could even lose one of their own.

            Grantaire, as usual, was the first of them to consider that possibility. He only verbalized it to Éponine, in private, the night before the rally. He was pretty much breaking his own “pissing-Enjolras-off-as-often-as-possible” rule by not mocking the leader based on his own uncertainty, but this one time, he decided to keep it to himself and to his best friend.

            “What if we don’t make it?” he had whispered in her ear, in the middle of the night. He hadn’t slept at all with the weight of his thoughts.

            “Mm?” She had asked, still half asleep.

            “What if we get killed? Or captured? Or tortured? What if they get Enjolras?”

            “They won’t get Enjolras, that’s why you’re going” she had smirked.

            “I’m serious, Éponine. If he dies the revolution dies with him”.

            At this, Éponine had leaned on her elbows, lifting her body to be able to frown at her best friend properly.

            “Since when have you cared about the revolution above Enjolras?”

            “Since it has the potential to kill him tomorrow”.

            Éponine sighed, laying back on the floor but dragging herself closer until she was snuggling Grantaire.

            “R, I know it’s hard for you not to be pessimistic all the time. I totally get it because I am too. But I do believe this time, this one time, we have a proper chance. It’s going to be dangerous as fuck, yes. We might die. Enjolras might die. But it’s an uprising we haven’t seen since this Helium hell begun, and an uprising we sure as fuck need right now. People on those facilities are dying. Some are still alive but they’re not living. They spend the whole time doing whichever drugs BL/ind. gives them or watching those godawful programs. Who knows if they haven’t started to turn them into slaves. I mean, laboring slaves”.

            Grantaire raised an eyebrow and Éponine didn’t have to be looking at him to know that.

            “I know, R. I sound weird to my own ears too. But I mean it. We can’t pretend the world is unfixable when someone like Enjolras exists, right in front of our eyes, burning with the passion of a thousand men. He gives me hope. Hope for a better future for Gav and Azelma, a better future for us all. And even if we die tomorrow, at least we’ll die making a difference. It’s not like any of us have anything left to live for anyways”.

            Grantaire stayed silent for a few minutes, only the sound of their breathing and their friends sleeping nearby filling the room.

            “Thanks, Ép”, he said, not knowing exactly what to think or to tell her.

            She raised her head to look at him.

            “You know I’ve got your back, right?”

            “I’ve got your back too”, he answered, pulling her for a hug.

            And that’s how Enjolras found them on the following morning, still cuddling on the floor of their now more than ever temporary apartment, fast asleep and with peaceful expressions on their faces. Some would say Grantaire could be even looking content. And if Enjolras woke them up a little bit more harshly than he did with the others, he would deny it to his grave.

            -

            As soon as Grantaire entered the car, he regretted his entire existence.

            “Fuck you, Éponine” he muttered through gritted teeth, taking the passenger sit and not even bothering to spare her a look. He would have been able to detect her shit-eating grin from miles away.

            “You wish”, she smiled.

            “This isn’t fair. This could very well be my last day on earth and you’re preventing me from my lady’s embrace”.

            “I’m the only lady in your life”, she said, faking jealousy.

            “That is true. But how do you expect me to cope with this hellish day without a drop of alcohol?”

            “You ain’t gonna drink and drive on my watch”.

            “That’s precisely why I wanted YOU to drive”.

            “You’re also not going to the protest drunk out of your mind! Enjolras and Joly would have my head if that happened”.

            “Joly wouldn’t hurt a fly”.

            “Joly would summon your soul back from the dead just to kill you again if you died because you were too drunk to save your own ass”.

            “… Yeah, fine, that’s a little bit true”.

            “And Enjolras would probably impale me with a French flag mast if you got hurt or drunk on my watch”.

            “Well, that’s not true at all”.

            “Maybe not the impaling me part, but he’d probably never forgive me. I know blondie looks as sensitive as a broken teaspoon, but he actually cares about you, you know”.

            Grantaire opted for not answering and started the car.

            As soon as they were all ready, the three cars headed to the nearest road (which was minutes through the ghost city), one in front of the other. Cosette and Marius waved timidly to them from the front of the abandoned building, Gavroche not having bothered to stay outside and Azelma standing beside the couple, but showing only worry on her face. Soon, their images disappeared in the horizon.

            They hadn’t expected trouble on the beginning of the road, but trouble seemed to always manage to find them. Only twenty minutes into their little caravan, a patrol with two vampires passed them on the opposite direction they were heading and soon turned around, ready to chase them and shoot at them. That meant Grantaire and Éponine were the responsible for taking them down before they could get to Enjolras or warn any other vampires. Éponine – god bless her – was quick to shoot them right in the head only missing twice, and not getting even a scratch. The car lost direction and keeled over, leaving nothing but a trail of smoke in the air behind them.

            Another group of S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/Ws got to them ten minutes later, only now on motorcycles, and the five tried to take them off the road and almost succeeded before Combeferre and Bahorel managed to take them down. Apparently – and fortunately – the attacker had no kind of communication with them, since the rest of the road was met with no more confrontations.

            They parked the cars on strategical points around Paris, making them look like nothing more than abandoned cars, but easy to reach in case of an emergency. They were very aware no one would dare to walk fearlessly on the street until les Amis caused a commotion, and even so they wouldn’t have much time until the vampires arrived to stop them.

            Enjolras walked away from the Amis with a fierce determination and stopped, aligned with the center of the Louvre, right in front of what used to be the pyramid and now was only ruins. The main entrance was blocked by the building’s own wreckage, and the very structure of the remainings of the museum seemed about to crumble if anyone touched it. It was the perfect scenario of destruction to reinforce Enjolras’ point on why the people should stand up for the Amis.

            “People of Paris” he cried, and the power with which his voice echoed around the ruins startled even Grantaire, who was helping Bahorel with the bag of guns. “People of France. Fear no more. The time of terror is coming to an end. Soon, there will be no chains of any kind to bind us. Soon, there will be no vicious addiction to ruin our lives. Soon, there will no longer be dictatorial industries to dictate what we, free people, can or cannot do!”

            Grantaire was too caught up on Enjolras’ figure that he didn’t notice the few people slowly coming out from inside nearby buildings or wreckages, but he did get surprised when he turned around absentmindedly to pick up one of the gun bags from the ground and saw the people slowly approaching the blond leader. Looking around, he could see a considerable number of people of all ages coming forward from their hiding spots and showing themselves to the Amis. Grantaire’s heart beat harder on his chest. He had been so skeptical about the people showing up. Could this be?

            Combeferre called them and told them to start spreading the guns around. There were at most a hundred people joining up around Enjolras, but more people seemed to be coming from farthest streets around them. Into a good ten minutes into the speech, there were already four hundred and they had to give a megaphone to Enjolras so that everyone could hear him. Into half an hour, the number seemed to double.

            They obviously hadn’t had enough weapons for everyone, so they armed people who seemed to have gotten there first, based on their proximity to the leader. Grantaire and Bahorel had taken the layers of people closer to Enjolras, while Éponine and Feuilly were giving guns to the farthest layers. People seemed to be surprised at first, but realizing the impending fate, accepted the guns gratefully.

            Enjolras hadn’t stopped speaking ever since they got there, and didn’t look like he was about to. He kept ranting about the rights of the people, the rights to freedom, the dangers the drugs offered by BL presented. Grantaire was so distracted by the power of his voice tthat it was almost too late when he saw the impostor.

            Almost.

            His gun bag was almost empty, only three or for guns left, since he was so close to Enjolras himself and nearly everyone around him had been armed. He had just given a gun to a man with a tan jacket and a hat that covered almost his entire face. The scenario was so cliché that Grantaire would curse himself for not realizing it sooner. Really. A tan jacket?

            Had Grantaire not been so distracted by Enjolras – who seemed to shine brighter than ever on the pale sun – he would have totally been onto the man. But he practically shoved the gun on the man’s hand and was already searching for another one to provide the next citizen. He should have known better. Were it not for the muttered “what…?” coming from his left, breaking him from his stupor, he would have never been able to stop the upcoming events.

            Looking at his left side, he saw a small woman, who couldn’t be older than 20, frowning at the man Grantaire had just armed. He was now making his way through the crowd, slowly pushing people away to make room for him. He was heading for Enjolras.

            Instead of taking his own gun, Grantaire grabbed one from his bag. Looking around for Bahorel in the middle of the crowd, he made a small silent gesture towards the suspect man, being able to communicate with his friend very rapidly. The larger man was already making his way through the people when the suspect man noticed the attention he was receiving, and began to walk faster. Soon he was pushing people over violently, and Grantaire started to run, his heart beating stronger than ever.

            He reached the man just as he found a clear way to Enjolras and was raising his gun at the blond, who was still delivering the speech to the crowd, oblivious to the man right behind him.

            Grantaire had two options.

            He could either try to restrain the man and risk him shooting (and/or killing) Enjolras or anyone near him.

            Or he could kill the man.

            He had exactly two seconds to decide before the man’s arm had set his aim and he pulled the trigger.

            One.

            He knew he should not have come sober to the fucking rally.

            Two.

            Whatever. He was already going to hell anyway.

            Grantaire pulled the trigger.

            The laser shot hit the man on the back of his head, sending his body flying gracelessly to the ground and his burnt hat falling beside his dead body. Enjolras turned around quickly, and a mixture of emotions Grantaire had never seen before ran through his face. Confusion, betrayal, realization, acceptance. His wide blue eyes met Grantaire’s just as a piercing scream was heard through the crowd.

            Everyone seemed to panic as people slowly realized what just happened. There were screaming, shouting and running around, and what was before an organized crowd of people listening attentively to a leader now seemed an anthill of chaos. Grantaire passed over the man’s body to make his way to Enjolras, who now seemed baffled and not knowing what to do.

            “We need to get out of here”, he screamed over the sound of the commotion so the blond could hear him.

            Enjolras just stared at him with lost eyes before the fierceness came back. He walked over to the body and turned it around with his foot.

            It was a S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W.

            They had infiltrated the protest.

            Which meant…

            “There are more of them” Enjolras said, calmly but angrily. “They’re infiltrated on the crowd. Go tell the others. Protect the civilians. I’ll go find Combeferre”.

            “Like hell I’m leaving you alone. You’re coming with me”, Grantaire said, grabbing Enjolras’ arm. “We’ll find Combeferre together”.

            Enjolras pulled his arm back violently.

            “I’m a living target. They want me. I’m not going to be near the people”.

            “You being a living target is the exact reason I’m not leaving you alone!”

            “Just go tell the others, we have no time!”

            Another vampire showed up right before them but before he could do anything he was gunned down by no one other than Combeferre himself.

            “We need to get out of here”, Combeferre said.

            “You’re a saint”, Grantaire commented.

            “We must help the people” Enjolras said, looking around and getting sight of at least a dozen bodies on the ground. He couldn’t know if they were all vampires, even though he hoped so.

            “We’ll help by getting you out of here. You’re the main target, we knew that from the beginning”, Combeferre said.

            “Fine, let’s go. Grantaire, go warn the others about the vampires and meet us on the settled place. Combeferre will escort me there”.

            “Enjolras…” he tried to call, but the two men were already lost through the dispersing crowd.

            As soon as he turned around to look for his other friends he was met with two vampires jumping on him. He hit the pavement hard and it took him a few seconds to realize what was going on before he could take action. He punched the vampire above him on the nose and kicked him away before getting a hold of his gun and shooting him. The other was harder to kill and it costed him a shot graze on his ribcage, nothing that he should really worry about.

            He found his way to a battle crazed Bahorel with a swollen bottom lip and bloodied knuckles breaking the neck of one of the vampires. Right behind him were a traumatized-looking Jehan and Éponine, who was cradling her hand to her chest as if she had hurt it.

            “Hello there R”, Bahorel greeted, spitting on the body right beside his feet.

            “Seems you guys already found out about those infiltrated vampires then”, Grantaire commented, they all breaking into run towards the nearest parked car.

            “Yeah, those sneaky motherfuckers. We shouldn’t take too long here though, I’d bet my right AND my left arms that there are way more of them coming”.

            “Where’s Enjolras?” Jehan asked.

            “He went to the cars with Combeferre, he’s safe”, Grantaire answered.

            “Wasn’t Courfeyrac with them?” he asked, seeming horrified.

            “No, just ‘Ferre, why?”

            “I haven’t seen Courfeyrac since this hole shit went to hell, have any of you?”

            All of them shook their heads.

            Grantaire felt his heart tighten.

            “Alright, no panic. Lets get to the cars and check if he’s there. If he’s not we’ll find him. Fear not, my dear poet”, the brunette assured, giving Jehan’s shoulder a tight squeeze.

            As soon as they got to the first car they were met with Joly taking care of Bossuet’s injured forehead. Grantaire didn’t even bother to greet them as they approached and asked straight away: “Has any of you seen Courfeyrac?”

            “The last I saw him was right before Bossuet got hit. Then he disappeared through the crowd before I could catch him”, Joly said.

            “Hgggn”, Bossuet moaned.

            Grantaire could hear Jehan’s heavy breathing behind him.

            “Fine. What about Enjolras and ‘Ferre?”

            “They’re in the next car, ready to take off as soon as everyone’s here. Feuilly is with them watching out for trouble”.

            “Okay. Jehan, Éponine, go meet Enjolras on their car, tell them me and Bahorel are going after Courf”, Grantaire said. “Give us fifteen minutes tops and if we don’t get back by then go on without us. We’ll find our own way” he looked at Bahorel at this, waiting for his reaction. The man nodded firmly at him. “Joly, have your med kit ready for when we get back. Éponine, don’t you even think about following us”.

            “Who the fuck named you the leader?” she asked, angry.

            “The situation. If you’re really considering following me, think of Gav and Azelma and how well they’re gonna handle themselves without their big sister around to watch out for them”.

            Her lips tightened and she looked away, not willing to admit the defeat.

            He went in for a hug but she pushed him away.

            “This isn’t goodbye, dumbass. Don’t hug me as if you’re going to die”, she said. Grantaire couldn’t help but to smile at this.

            With a final nod for the group, the both of them went running back to the direction they had come from, eyes and ears alert to any sign of Courfeyrac. Amazingly, there were still people there, either running around or trying to hide.

Somewhere in the distance, the approaching sound of combined footsteps echoed. Turning around, Grantaire could distinguish the silhouette of several S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/Ws, running towards them and anyone still hanging around the Louvre. More were coming behind them, and who knows how many more would arrive in the few minutes they had until they reached them.

            “Fuck”, Bahorel muttered.

            “Courfeyrac!” Grantaire began to scream, hoping his friend would hear him wherever he was. Bahorel joined him on the screaming as they ran around frantically searching for the man. They were running out of time.

            They were nearly abandoning the place to go search for Courf in the adjacent streets when Grantaire – bless his ears – hear a weak mutter coming from the ruins of the Louvre. Running there, he got sight of a badly injured Courfeyrac, inside the wreckage of the museum, lying against what seemed to be a broken sculpture. There was no way Grantaire could drag him out without entering the wreckage.

            “Bahorel, go back to them and tell them we’ve found Courf. Warn them about the incoming vampires. Tell everyone to get ready and get going, leave a car back for us if possible”, Grantaire told the man.

            “No way I’m leaving you both here. I ain’t your delivery boy. I’m going to help”, he protested, trying to pull some of the wreckage away and only disturbing the balance of it, risking it all to fall right above Courfeyrac and bury him alive.

            “If you don’t go they’ll all die! Look at how many fucking S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/Ws there are, there’s no way they’ll be able to fight them off! We can’t just get the wreckage away, it’s unstable, it’ll fall all over us. I’ll hide here with Courfeyrac, they haven’t seen us here yet, and we’ll get out when it’s safe. Courf’s hurt, we won’t be able to get him there in time!”

            “I won’t leave you behind!”

            “You have to!”

            “I’m your friend!”

            “So are they!”

            “You’ll both die!”

            “We’ll be fine, just go!”

            “R-”

            “GO!”

            Bahorel gave him a hard, disapproving look, before turning around and running as fast as a lightening to warn their friends. Grantaire climbed into the wreckage to lay beside Courfeyrac, who was breathing heavily and had blood running down his face from a cut on his forehead.

            “How the fuck did you get in here anyway, Courf?”

            “There was a kid…” he said, his voice slurred from pain. “When you shot that guy everything went to hell. People didn’t know who to trust and started shooting each other. I saw a kid approach the Louvre and I knew it was dangerous… unstable. I came after her. She climbed here and I thought she was trying to hide but… she was drawing me to a trap. It was… I don’t know, R, I think it was a S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W. Do they make them that young…? She shot me and I… I…” he started to drift off.

            “Hey, Courf, stay with me okay?” Grantaire slapped him lightly on the face, trying to keep him conscious. The vampires had reached the area and were mercilessly throwing the remaining people to the ground and handcuffing them, only to shove them in their bizarre cars and disappear again. They hadn’t seen them there.

            “She was so small”, Courf wheezed, eyes still closed. “What if the vampires are just… people they get and… I don’t know, brainwash… I had never seen them as people before”

            “That’s a valid theory that we can think about later when you’re not injured hiding in a destroyed museum”, Grantaire said.

            “Am I dying?” Courfeyrac asked and Grantaire turned to look at him, horrified. The boy was staring at him with half lidded, pain-glazed eyes.

            “You’re not dying” he answered. “Not on me”.

            Courfeyrac closed his eyes again and his head fell back.

            Muttering a curse, Grantaire reached out to check for a pulse at Courfeyrac’s neck. He held a breath he didn’t realize he was holding when he found one, faint, yet still there.

            His relief didn’t last for long, though.

            Somehow, one of the vampires had caught sight of them and was now signaling for the other ones about their location. Around 10 S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/Ws were making their way to the wreckage, leaving Grantaire no other option than to drag Courfeyrac’s unconscious body further into the ruins of the museum. He knew it was probably suicide, since they’d have no way out. But it was the only option he had on the moment, or he and Courfeyrac would end up either dead or captured, and Grantaire didn't know which one was worse.

            Placing Courfeyrac carefully against a fallen column, Grantaire stood in front of his friend to shield him the best he could and started shooting at the vampires through the wreckage. The pursuers shot back viciously and Grantaire had to take cover behind a large piece of concrete to avoid being killed on the spot.

            Unfortunately, the large piece of concrete was currently the only form of sustentation that part of Louvre's ruins had, and the quantity of shots it withstood made it move considerably from it’s previous position. Grantaire had a few moments to realize that before the loud, roaring sound that indicated the scructure of the place was about to crumble. He got up and ran as fast as he could, forgetting about the laser guns aimed at him, grabbing Courfeyrac bridal-style and running even further into the Louvre before the tons of concrete being held above them fell down upon their heads.


	5. The Only Hope For Me is You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one has a little bit of graphic descriptions of blood.

_Where, where will you stand_

_When all the lights go out_

_Across these city streets?_

_Where were you when_

_All of the embers fell?_

_I still remember them_

_Covered in ash_

_Covered in glass_

_Covered in all my friends_

_I still think of the bombs they build_

            “I can’t fucking believe this!” Enjolras complained probably for the tenth time in the last half an hour.

            Combeferre, who usually was the voice of reason and normally would attempt to calm Enjolras down, remained silent. The worry for Courfeyrac was evident on the way his lips formed a thin line and his forehead creased in a frown.

            Éponine, who was leaning against Combeferre on the back seat, kept throwing disapproving glances at Bahorel more often than not. Enjolras had joined her at first, but even though he was still angry at the situation in general, he couldn’t find himself to be angry at Bahorel. If the man had not returned in time to warn them, they would have probably be gunned down by the S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/Ws. In his moment, his worry for his two friends who got left behind was more outstanding.

            They had left one of the cars behind for the two amis, so they could get back to it and go meet them in Rouen when they had a chance. The road trip was silent and they weren’t being pursued by any vampires, which sent an unsettling feeling to the pit of the group’s stomach. Enjolras hadn’t stoppet fidgeting and twisting on his sit beside Combeferre since they got into the car, and he had started biting his nails down, an old habit he only succumbed to in moments of most stress.

            “How did you say he was again?” Enjolras asked Bahorel.

            Bahorel, who was driving, glanced at him through the rearview mirror.

            “I told you already, Enjolras. Please don’t dwell on it. He was in bad shape”.

            “And you left Grantaire, of all people, to take care of him”, he complained. This earned him a glare from Éponine.

            “’Taire is more than capable of taking care of him. Everyone will be just fine, you’ll see”, Bahorel said, more to himself than to anyone.

            “At least we got some people with us”, Combeferre stated, the first time he spoke out loud since they managed to leave Paris.

            And it was true. Despite the confusion and commotion taking place on the streets, some people had found their way to them and were willing to join their group and fight. They were men and women of all ages, but most were on the end of their adolescence. They had split up on Joly’s and Bossuet’s cars, and three of them had taken sits on the one Feuilly was driving with a nervous Jehan by his side.

            “It may have costed us two men”, Enjolras replied, more pessimistic than usual.

            “Two friends”, Éponine corrected, still glaring at him.

            “Two friends and two good men”, Combeferre added, staring ahead of them as if in deep thought.

            “If they don’t come back in one day we’re going after them”, Enjolras said firmly. No one disagreed with him.

            The rest of the trip to Rouen was silent, yet the tension still hung in the air. Feuilly’s and Bossuet’s car took the long way through Amiens to mislead any possible pursuers, which meant they’d get to Rouen around two hours after the first two cars.

            The building they had chosen as their new base was bigger than their old one, yet it seemed to be more antique. The forefront of the building was completely covered by wreckage, making it look like there was no way in or out. Enjolras and Combeferre had checked the structure and the security of the building, though, and found it safe for their use. Since the entrance was blocked, their only way in was climbing to the windows of the first floor and heading up to the last one through the dusty stairs. While it protected them from the vampires finding them easily – as long as they remained careful and did not draw much attention, the building would look like it was still abandoned -, it also made their emergency escape more difficult and risky. But it was one of the only few places in Rouen that didn’t seem to be completely unsafe, and this wouldn’t be their permanent base for too long.

            Before they got to the base, Enjolras, Combeferre, Éponine and Bahorel stopped the car by an abandoned convenience store. While they had a large stock of food and water on the base, it was never too much trying to find new supplies. Joly mounted guard outside the store with the five new recruits riding with him, whom Enjolras hadn’t had the chance to know yet. They’d left the whole introduction to when they got to safety.

            As Enjolras had predicted, most of the things on the store were either outdated or in too much of a bad condition for their use, but they still managed to grab a few knives (that could be very useful should they run out of ammo in the middle of a combat). Éponine dedicated the extra space on her backpack to make room for as many alcoholic beverages as she could find. When Enjolras sent her a piercing glare at this, she returned it with the same intensity.

            “Bahorel, why don’t you help me filling our stock up. Move your ass and take those beers over there”, she told Bahorel, who was looking around for something with a guilty expression on his face.

            Before making his way to the fridge to take the beers, he walked over to Combeferre with a handful of band-aids and bandages.

            “I know it’s probably not much but there are a few first aid supplies back there on the second row. Maybe you should check it over”.

            Combeferre nodded and before making his way to the supplies, he put a reassuring hand on the man’s broad shoulder.

            “Don’t beat yourself over it. It’s not your fault. You did right in coming back”.

            “Like a coward”, he muttered, not looking Combeferre in the eye.

            “You couldn’t have helped them. You could help us. And you did. They’ll be fine”.

            Bahorel stayed silent before saying:

            “Thank you, ‘Ferre”.

            “Don’t mention it. R is a tough guy, so is Courfeyrac. They’re both very persistent, good men. They’ll get around”.

            “I hope they do”, Bahorel answered, before making his way to help Éponine with the beers.

-

            When Grantaire opened his eyes, he couldn’t see shit.

            It took him a few moments to realize where he was and what was going on, but as soon as he did, he got up so quickly to check on Courfeyrac he got a little dizzy.

            “’Feyrac?” he called, not being able to see his friend since all the light had been blocked with the wreckage.

            A guttural sound came from his right and he fumbled the ground around him until he reached what felt like the man’s arm. He squeezed it tightly and earned another groan from his friend. Sighing a breath of relief, he crawled his way to the man, before being caught in a coughing fit due to the amount of dust in the air around them.

            “Courfeyrac, can you hear me?” he coughed, voice raspy.

            “Hnnng”, he groaned. “Wha’ happened?”

            “The fucking Louvre fell on us”, Grantaire provided.

            “Neat”, Courfeyrac answered.

            “Can you get up?”

            “You sure we’re not dead?” he slurred. “I won’t need to get up if we’re dead”.

            “We’re not dead and I have no intention of dying today”, Grantaire said, trying to sit up. His legs were shaking too hard for him to stand up just yet, so he decided to try to figure out a way of illuminating the place so he could check on any possible extra injuries on Courfeyrac.

            He grabbed one of his laser guns and tried to check if he still had ammo through the touch. He checked the other and found he only had four remaining shots on one of them and two on the other. Sighing, he put the one with the more shots on his belt and kept the other in hand.

            “Courf, you got your gun there?” he asked.

            “I… I don’t know. If I do it’s on my belt but I can’t… I can’t reach it. I think my arm is stuck”.

            Grantaire really needed a drink right now.

            “I hope Enjolras is happy”, Grantaire commented, while groping around for something he could use as a torch. “This whole thing went fucking great”.

            “’S not Enjolras’ fault”, Courfeyrac sounded angry. “We couldn’t know the vampires’d infiltrate the rally”.

            “Who knew they had such brains”.

            “Maybe they’re improving’em”, the boy commented absentmindedly.

            “Maybe they are”, Grantaire responded, finally finding a large piece of wood that could serve him. He grabbed it, feeling around to find if it was sharp, and then placing it on his own lap. He then pulled out his pocketknife from its hiding spot on his boot and cut out a piece of his own shirt, then proceeding to roll the cloth around the tip of the stick. Turning away from Courfeyrac, he grabbed his laser gun and shot the floor, causing a small flame that would die any second now. He quickly shoved the tip of the stick on the fire, and it caught, sending a shiver of relief down the brunette’s spine.

            A red light illuminated their faces and even though it was still dark, at least now he could see where he and Courfeyrac were. He turned back around to the man, who has laying down behind him, arm indeed stuck below something that looked like concrete.

            “From one to ten, one being “I’d get up right now and go hit on random people on a bar” and ten being “I’m about to meet our lord and savior Jesus Christ I can’t take this anymore please put me out of my misery”, how much pain are you feeling right now?”

            Courfeyrac thought for a moment.

            “Nine…?” he hesitated.

            “Seriously, that bad?” Grantaire asked, worriedly.

            “Okay, okay, seven point five”.

            “Fine. I’ll try to move this thing from your arm, but I’ll need you to hold the torch for me. Please don’t set yourself on fire”, he warned, handing the torch to Courfeyrac’s trembling hand.

            Grantaire crawled until he was able to kneel beside Courfeyrac and get a good position to hold the concrete. It was very heavy and it would take a great effort to pull it away.

            “Courf, I’m going to raise it up a little bit but it’s too heavy and I won’t be able to hold it for long, so please, as soon as you feel the pressure off your arm, pull it away no matter how much it hurts”.

            “Okay”, Courfeyrac said with a shaky voice.

            “Seriously. If I drop and your arm is still there I’ll have to cut it off and I only have a pocketknife on me”.

            “Okay… okay”, Courfeyrac said, and the illumination on the room started to flicker due to his shaky hand holding the torch.

            Grantaire held the piece of concrete with both hands and it took all the strength he had to raise it up a few milimiters from the ground.

            “Can you move it?” he asked, the effort he was making evident on his voice.

            Courfeyrac groaned and wheezed, trying to pull his arm off, but it was still not enough.

            Grantaire gritted his teeth and tried to raise it higher, the rocks below his feet threatening to slipper and ruin his support any moment now.

            Courfeyrac was clearly doing his best to pull his arm, torch laying forgotten beside him to free his hand so he could try to dig around the concrete and make room for his stuck arm to pass.

            Grantaire, in a surge of adrenaline, lifted the concrete as high as he could and Courfeyrac finally felt the pressure disappear from his arm, pulling it away instantly just as Grantaire could no longer take it and dropped the concrete with a yell.

            “Oh my god, oh my god”, Courfeyrac wheezed while cradling his injured arm against his heaving chest. “Ok, it’s a nine, it’s definitely a nine, my arm is broken, I am sure of it”.

            Grantaire grabbed the torch, its flame nearly dying out from laying on the dusty ground, to be able to illuminate Courf’s arm and take a good look at it. Even though he was no doctor, the arm was bent in an unnatural angle, clearly fractured.

            “We need to get out of here and get that treated”, he said, finally getting up, legs still shaky. “Stay here, I’ll check if there’s a way out through where we came”.

            Due to the sharp pain slicing through his arm and the dull throbbing on his abdomen, where the little devil had shot him, he did not even realize how much time had passed until Grantaire came back with a disappointed look on his face.

            “There’s no way out. There are probably tons of concrete blocking anything that could be used as an entrance, but at least it buried all those vampires after us. The only way out we have is trying to go through this part of the ruins and go further into the Louvre to see if we can get to any passages. Can you stand?”

            “I have to”, Courfeyrac said, trying to hoist himself up with his good arm. Grantaire helped him, offering a hand, and then passed Courf’s good arm around his neck to give him support. Taking most of his friend’s weight and allowing him to lean fully against him, Grantaire held the torch up clumsily to illuminate their path. The air was filled with dust and it was hard to breathe properly, especially with the torch flame consuming their oxygen on a quick pace, so it was with some difficulty the pair made their way further into the ruins of the museum.

            “We’re gon’ be fine, aren’t we R?” Courfeyrac slurred, seeming barely conscious, his head lolling back and forth as they took steps and ending up cradled between Grantaire’s jaw and shoulder.

            “Yeah, we will. We still have to go back to Rouen so Enjolras can scold us, remember?” he teased, hoping his friend wouldn’t notice the worry in his voice.

            Courfeyrac laughed weakly, which consequently made him choke and gave him a coughing fit that sounded painful. He tried to double over himself and nearly dropped to the ground, threatening to take Grantaire with him.

            “Easy there, friend. We’re almost there”.

            “Where?” he asked, breathless.

            “Somewhere. Just stay up. Lean on me if you need, but don’t drop okay?”

            “’Kay”.

            It was a hard way until they reached the inside of the museum, since there were many wreckage on the floor that they had to keep jumping over. It took them a good twenty minutes of slow walking and climbing over concrete until they reached the insides of the museum.

            Grantaire’s heart twisted in his chest.

            They got to the entrance of a corridor that seemed practically intact if it weren’t for the dust and broken glass decorating the floor. Some of the paintings still hung on the walls, lopsided, and others had fallen over to lay on the ground. Grantaire took a deep breath and continued their way, helping a nearly unconscious Courfeyrac now. Their footsteps echoed through the abandoned hall and Grantaire whish he could take at least one of the paintings with him, saving it from its fate of rotting away forgotten on the dusty floor of a wrecked museum. But he knew he couldn’t.

            He no longer needed the torch, for the day light was coming through freely from the sky above, so he discarded it to the floor. They had nearly reached the end of the hall when he heard footsteps behind them.

            Stopping abruptly, Grantaire slowly moved his hand towards the gun on his belt.

            “You touch that and you’re dead”, said a female voice. “Take your hand away from your gun and keep it where I can see it”.

            At least he knew she wasn’t a S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W. He’d never seen a female one anyways.

            “Who are you?” Grantaire asked, feelling his chest tighten when the woman removed both his guns and Courfeyrac’s from their belts and threw them on the floor away from them. He felt the barrel of her laser gun pressing against the back of his neck, and did his best to keep still while still supporting Courfeyrac.

            “What’s wrong with your friend?” she asked, completely ignoring his question.

            “He was shot by a vampire”.

            “His arm is broken”.

            “He got stuck on the wreckage when we entered Passage Richelieu. It fell above us”.

            “What are you doing here?”

            “We were hiding from the vampires”.

            “Your answers seem to be too generic to be true”.

            “It’s true, though. We were on the rally, the vampires attacked us, we hid here. They went after us, the whole thing came down, we’re trying to find our way out”.

            “Rally?” she asked, and Grantaire rolled her eyes at the way her voice sounded hopeful. “You mean the one Les Amis organized?”

            “Yeah, that’s the one. See this cutie here leaning on me? Yeah. He was Batman”.

            He could imagine the woman’s eyes widening and he didn’t even have to turn back to look at her.

            “So you… you two are amis?” she asked.

            “Yes, I thought that much was clear. Do you know a way out?”

            She hesitated.

            “We won’t hurt you or anything. We just wanna go back to our friends and give Batman here a proper medical treatment”.

            The gun was still touching his neck.

            “Prove to me”, she said.

            “Excuse me?”

            Courfeyrac was getting heavier on his grasp.

            “Prove to me you’re not with BL, you’re not leading me into a trap. Prove you’re an ami. Show me I can trust you”.

            Grantaire sighed.

            “Honestly, I don’t know how to do it”, he admitted. “You shouldn’t trust anyone nowadays”.

            She huffed.

            “Then I’ll shoot you both on the spot” she threatened.

            “Do it. But you’ll never get to know where the amis are”.

            He could literally hear her brain working.

            “How can I even know you are one of the amis?”

            Grantaire had the most stupid idea in his life.

            He was so going to regret it.

            “Remember the leader, the one who delivered the speech on the TV?”

            “Enjolras?” she asked.

            “Yeah. Grab my wallet on my back pocket”.

            Honestly, there was no use for wallets on those days, but Grantaire had kept his anyways so he had somewhere to keep his pictures. His sister, his friends, his old dog, any memory from the old world he had lived in that he could keep. In there, there was a discoloring picture of the amis, taken by him on one of the first years with the group, before his camera had been shot by a vampire on an attack to their base. He had wasted all his ammo on shooting the guy multiple times. He really liked that camera.

            The woman fished his wallet and he heard the sound of the zipper being pulled. She could hear her fidgeting with the many little folders he had, looking through his personal pictures (he suddenly felt very angry) until there was only silence.

            “You could have found this anywhere”, she said.

            “I could”.

            “Why do you keep trying to convince me not to trust you?”

            “Because you already do”.

            Silence. The wallet was closed and placed back into his pocket.

            “If I show you the way out will you take me to them?”

            “Why would you want to join us anyway?”

            “Because the world needs to be changed. And I believe you guys actually have a chance of doing it”.

            Grantaire sighed, trying to pull Courfeyrac (now completely limp) closer to him.

            “Fine. I’ll take you to them”.

            “Sweet”, she said, clearly trying to hide the excitement from her voice (and failing). She finally put her gun down, and Grantaire felt a cold sensation where it used to be.

            “Can I have my guns back?” he asked, trying to hide his impatience.

            “Someday. For now, I’ll carry them for you”.

            “Well, lead the way then, Mademoiselle”.

            The woman passed them in a quick movement and looked nothing like Grantaire had imagined based on her voice. She was tall, not taller than him, but definetly taller than Enjolras at least, with light ebony skin and a dark, long curly hair that went down her waist. She wasn’t thin, but wasn’t fat also, she had the body of renaissance paintings and the ass of a goddess. Grantaire found himself staring, mouth hanging open like a fish at the woman’s enchanting beauty. It was a different beauty. Éponine had dangerous dark eyes and straight dark hair that matched, a thin waist and a curvy silhouette, while Cosette was petite, with blond curls and sweet blue eyes that gave her an angelical look, hiding her fierceness very well. But this woman was different. It was like mixing up Éponine’s temper with Cosette’s looks, in a way that made her look nearly fae-like. When she turned around to check why they hadn’tbeen following her, Grantaire caught himself tearing up at the sight of her eyes. They were nearly as green as his own, only way more shiny and alive. Her full, red lips tinged her face with a sensual tone that fit her perfectly.

            “What’s wrong?” she frowned.

            “Can I paint you?” he asked, immediately regretting his words. “Ah, sorry, that sounded creepy. I meant, you’re very beautiful and paintable. I would like to paint you some day, if you’d like”.

            She stared at him as if he’d grown a second head.

            “Let’s change the world, then you can paint me”.

            “Sounds fair”, he said, finally moving to follow her.

            They bypassed the place she’d taken as a bed, where most of her personal belongings were piled up against a wall. She told Grantaire that she had been wandering around Paris ever since she ran away from her BL facility after Enjolras’ transmission. Both her parents had died and she had nothing to live for there, and the Amis’ message had given her hope. She had gotten to the Louvre a week ago, finding it worth a try to hide even though it didn’t look too safe. She had run out of canned food yesterday, and only had a bottle of water left. She was about to leave when heard the commotion outside, and the crumbling. She had then decided to stay for one more day until things calmed down and she could leave without risk of being caught.

            “What’s your name again?” Grantaire asked, even though he was sure they hadn’t introduced each other.

            “Musichetta. And you are?”

            “Grantaire. This is Courfeyrac”.

            “Yeah. Nice to meet you”.

            “Same. Sorry for sounding like a creep before”.

            “That’s okay, I’ve heard worse”.

            Musichetta gathered her stuff in her small backpack (including Grantaire’s and Courf’s weapons, he noticed) and then proceeded to lead them to a safe way out of the Louvre. Courfeyrac was unconscious, but still moaning in pain, and Grantaire found it better to carry him bridal style again, taking care not to injure his broken arm further. Soon after they found themselves standing before a tight hole on the highest part of a wall, leading to a street outside.

            “We’ll have to go one at the time”, she said.

            “Fine. Give me my guns”.

            She wrinkled her nose at this. Grantaire sighed.

            “I’ll go through first, see if the area is secure, you come out, we both pull Courfeyrac through. I can't go unarmed if there are vampires out there”.

            “Okay, fine”, she said, but didn’t seem too happy about it. She handed Grantaire his guns, and he put them on the belt. Hoisting himself up the hole midbody, he looked around carefully to check for any trouble. The street was empty except for a few dead bodies spread on the floor. Grantaire finished to climb out of the hole, landing on his feet. He gave Musichetta a clear sign and it was her turn to climb out, pulling Courfeyrac halfway through with her. Then, both of them pulled the injured man out, with some difficulty, and Grantaire caught him before he collided with the ground.

            “How do we get there?” Musichetta asked as they started to walk away from the Louvre rapidly.

            “We have a car parked on a street not far from here. Our base is in Rouen”.

            “Okay. We ought to get there fast though, your friend here doesn’t look too well”.

            “Help me carry him”.

            Musichetta promptly grabbed Courfeyrac’s legs and helped Grantaire carry him. When they had just reached the street the car was parked they heard footsteps and a laser gun being shot.

            “Shit!” he said, doubling over and throwing Courfeyrac’s limp body over his shoulder. He grabbed Musichetta’s hand and ran, taking cover behind an old car.

            “Okay, can you drive?” he asked Musichetta while cradling Courfeyrac’s moaning body against his own. The girl nodded franticly. “Fine. See that gray new fiesta over there?” he pointed. The girl nodded again. “Grab Courfeyrac and get there. The key is on the ignition. I’ll cover you. Get the car started and wait for me”.

            “Ok”, she said, passing the limp man’s arm over her shoulder and running her way to the car. Immediately, Grantaire got up and grabbed both his guns to shoot at the vampires. There were two of them, running towards Musichetta, and he only managed to get one down before he ran out of ammo.

            “Fuck”, he muttered, as the vampire approached him, ready to give the final shot.

-

            “How long has it been?”

            “Ten hours”.

            “Are you sure?”

            “Yes, I am”.

            “If feels like it was more than ten hours”.

            “To be honest it’s been nine hours and fifty four minutes, but I didn’t want to annoy you”.

            “I believe you’re the only person who’s unable to annoy me, ‘Ferre”.

            “I wish I could say the same”.

            Enjolras looked hurt at this.

            “Sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. You don’t annoy me, I just…”

            “I know, ‘Ferre. Don’t worry. I’ll go check on everyone”, Enjolras said, and then he was gone.

            Nearly ten hours had passed since they had gotten to the base, and there was still no sign of Courfeyrac and Grantaire. Enjolras’ heart felt painful on his chest and even though he had promised himself he would only go back to Paris after one day, he wanted to break it and go right now. His best friend was there, injured, for ten hours, he could… Grantaire could… they could be dead and it would be his entire fault. No victory was worth losing his friends.

            He didn’t realize he was heavy breathing until Cosette approached him with a glass of water.

            “I know it’s hard but try to rest, Enjolras. It’s been a long day”.

            “How can I rest when my friends might be dead?” he asked, sounding harsher than he had intended. Cosette didn’t seem to mind.

            “They’re not dead, don’t be so negative. Grantaire might be many things, but he won’t give up until he brings Courf back to us. But you’ll be of no use unless you rest, Enjolras. And even if you don’t want to admit it, you have to keep an image to the new people”.

            Enjolras looked up and saw some of the new recruits staring. They quickly avoided his gaze as soon as he raised his head, ashamed. He had gotten their names and put it on his notebook, but the data was soon erased from his usually meticulous head to give space to worrying. Images of a dead Courfeyrac invaded his mind and he shook his head.

            “Enj, I know you’re scared”, Cosette said. She and Jehan were probably the only people he allowed to call him ‘Enj’. “And it’s okay to admit you’re scared; no one will think any less of you. Plus, we’re all scared. But, please, don’t blame yourself for what happened. It was not your fault, it wasn’t anyone’s fault. I promise they’ll come home fine ok?” she raised her little finger to him and he stared at it, confused. She took his hand with her one and intertwined their little fingers.

            “What are you doing?” he frowned.

            “It’s a pinky promise. You can’t break a pinky promise”.

            Something inside his chest warmed up.

            “Thank you, Cosette”.

            “You’re welcome. Now, fancy some tea?”

            “Incoming!” Bahorel’s voice cut their conversation. Enjolras was immediately on his feet and rushing to the man’s side by the apartment’s window.

            “What is it?”

            “That’s our car coming there but there’s a chick on the wheel”.

            “Can you see Courfeyrac or Grantaire?”

            “No”.

            Enjolras’ lips tightened into a line.

            “Bahorel, Feuilly, Bossuet, with me. The rest of you, stay here and be ready for anything. No one leaves the apartment until one of us three say so. Stay silent, don’t make sudden movements near the windows, don’t flash lights, don’t do anything that can compromise our location. We’ll be right back”.

            The three man followed Enjolras out the apartment quietly and went down the stairs with him, until they reached the first floor. Enjolras was the first of them to climb off the window, landing hard on his feet and not wasting time on helping the men behind him. He made a sign for them to stay back for support and walked straight to the car, now parked carelessly a few meters away from the building.

            Enjolras raised his laser gun steadily and pointed to the driver’s seat. The woman was just sitting there, hands up in a surrendering gesture.

            “Who are you?” he asked loud enough to be heard.

            She pointed to the door, clearly embarrassed, as if asking permission to open it. Enjolras nodded briefly and she pushed the door open, hands back in the air quickly as if to show she meant no harm. As soon as she was standing up beside the car, she spoke up.

            “I’m Musichetta. Your friends are on the back seat. They couldn’t drive so I had to. I mean no harm”.     

            Enjolras, still pointing the gun at her, leaned his head sideways to glance at the inside of the car. It was dark, but he thought he could discern a form that could be Courfeyrac.

            “Bahorel, Feuilly, check the car. Bossuet, keep an eye on the girl”, he barked.

            Enjolras passed her carefully as soon as Lesgle took his position, even if the man “watched” Musichetta more gently than he had. He walked over to the car where Feuilly had opened the back door, and glancing inside he saw an unconscious Courfeyrac laying on the back seat, his head cradled on Grantaire’s lap. Not sparing a look to the latter, Enjolras grabbed Courfeyrac’s legs, and with Feuilly’s help, got him out of the vehicle. Courfeyrac was in bad shape, but at least he was alive.

            They handed Courfeyrac to Bahorel, without doubt the strongest of them, and told him to get him to Joly as quick as he could.

            Enjolras turned back to the car to help Grantaire out and he could swear his soul had left his body.

            Grantaire was covered in blood from the waist up, and even though his face was a dark-red mess, he was the palest shade Enjolras had ever seen him in.

            His heart was beating too fast in his chest and he was so, so afraid.

            “… Grantaire?” he called, voice merely a whisper.

            At the sound of his voice the man rose, confused as if he had been asleep. Enjolras heard himself exhale harshly with relief.

            “Are you alright?” Feuilly asked behind him, worry evident in his voice.

            Grantaire stared at them wide eyed.

            “Yeah, sure, I’m fine. Just tired. Fell asleep”, he said, voice too raspy.

            Enjolras felt his face burning up and he thanked god it was dark so the brunette wouldn’t be able to see him blushing. As usual, he automatically hid his concern beneath harshness.

            “Care to tell us why you’re covered in blood?”

            Grantaire didn’t even bother to put on his sarcastic smile and got out of the car, passing Enjolras without answering.

            Enjolras turned back and saw the girl, Musichetta, explaining something to Bossuet. She seemed very nervous. The man then embraced her in a polite hug as if to stop her from shaking.

            “Feuilly, please go and park the car near the others. Do you want me to cover for you?” the blond asked.

            “No, that’s okay. I’ll be right back”, the redhead said, getting into the car. Enjolras walked over to the pair, now with some distance between them, Lesgle still handing his gun as if waiting for Enjolras’ orders.

            “Who are you?” he asked the girl again.

            “Musichetta, I told you”, she answered, sounding annoyed.

            “I heard you. But who are you? What are you doing here?”

            “I found your friends in the Louvre. I mean, in what’s left of it. They got stuck in there while trying to get away from some vampires after your rally went wrong”.

            “Who says it went wrong?” Enjolras retorted.

            “Well, since two of your friends got left behind and one of them is barely alive right now, I’d assume it didn’t go as planned, or, you know, wrong. But whatever, man”.

            “What happened then?” Enjolras asked.

            “I helped your friends out of the Louvre and in exchange they helped me get here. I want to join you. I want to help”.

            Enjolras nodded. Lesgle put his gun in the back of his pants and covered it with his shirt.

            “What happened to Grantaire?” the leader asked, apprehensive.

            The girl looked down, as if he wasn’t sure she should be telling him the story. She bit her lower lip and took a deep breath.

            “We were attacked on our way out. I took your friend Courfeyrac to the car while Grantaire covered me, but he ran out of ammo and only got one vampire down. The other one was about to shoot him, but he managed to take him to the floor, I don’t know, it was too fast. They started to wrestle and the vampire got on the top of him. He started to strangle Grantaire and I thought he was going to die and I had just gotten out of the car to shoot the vampire when… well… when… Grantaire slit his throat. The blood fell on him and I think… well, I think he choked on it because he couldn’t breathe and his mouth was… I… look, he hasn’t said a word the whole way here, I think it’s best if you just talk to him”.

            Bossuet seemed very uncomfortable and so did Enjolras, and the girl was politely glancing down as if to put the subject to an end.

            “Thank you”, Enjolras stated, without knowing what else to do. “For your help. You saved my friends’ life. You’re more than welcome to join us if that is your wish”.

            Musichetta looked up at him, confusion on her eyes.

            “You really are marble” she commented.

            “Excuse me?”

            She blinked as if waking up from a delusion.

            “Sorry. Of course I’d like to stay. I want to help you, as I said. I want the world to change” she said, embarrassed.

            “Then welcome to les Amis”, he said, leading the way back to their entrance to the building.

-

            “You come to my house!”

            “Joly, please”.

            “Covered in blood!”

            “Jolllllllly”.

            “Looking like you just came out of Cerberus’ mouth!”

            “Enough”.

            “And you dare tell me you’re fine!”

            “Because I am”.

            “Why don’t you just let me help…”

            “IT’S NOT MY BLOOD”, Grantaire snapped. Joly took a step back as if burned. “Let me through Joly, I don’t want to make a scene and I wish to wash myself”.

            Joly got out of his way.

            Grantaire headed straight to the bathroom, not talking to anyone and pretending he didn’t see the stares he received. Thank god none of the kids were around in the living room, or he’d have to go through some nasty scowling from Éponine.

            He quickly took his clothes off and dropped them in the sink, not caring about the dried blood threatening to leave marks on it. He turned the shower on and stepped inside, rinsing himself of the dried blood. It had crusted itself on his skin due to the hours spent on the road (they decided it was safer to take the long way through Rouen) and he had to rub it off. He didn’t realize how hard he was rubbing or how long he’d been in there until he heard a shy knocking on the door.

            “’Taire?” he heard Jehan’s shy voice calling him.

            “Yeah, I’ll be out in a second”, he said. Giving a final attention to his matted hair to rinse it of any possible traces of blood, he turned the water off and dried himself.

            His shirt was too filthy to be wore again – in fact he was pretty sure he’d have to throw it away, he’d probably never want to wear it after what happened anyways – but his pants were almost not-so-unwearable.

            Looking at himself in the mirror, he noticed greenish handprints forming around his neck.

            Great.

            Grabbing the disposable shirt from the sink, he opened the door and walked off the bathroom.

            As he had expected, everyone was still staring at him.

            “What?” he asked, annoyed, finding a trash can and throwing the shirt inside without a second thought. “Never seen a shirtless man before?”

            No one answered and he made his way to the corridor with the rooms, trying to find Joly. He passed two wrong rooms with people he did not know before he found the one Joly was in.

            “How’s he?” he asked, leaning on the wall opposite the bed Courfeyrac was lying at. Jehan, who was sitting by the bed and covering Courf's hand with his own, got up to catch him on a tight embrace. He whispered a soft "thank you" on Grantaire's ear before kissing him lightly on the cheek and making his way back to Courfeyrac's side.

            “He’ll live”, Joly answered, not sparing him a look, still bandaging the unconscious man. “He was shot at close range on the stomach, but it didn’t reach any vitals, just probably hurt a lot. He also has a very nasty fracture on his arm, that will take some time and much rest to heal. But he’ll be fine”.

            “For a moment I thought he wasn’t going to make it” Grantaire whispered. Joly was one of his best friends. He wasn’t going to judge him.

            “I know R. But he made it. Thanks to you”.

            “Sorry for yelling at you”.

            “That’s okay. You were under a lot of stress and I know how I can get some times. No hard feelings”.

            “Sorry anyway”.

            “Maybe you should go talk to Enjolras”.

            “You know what, my apologies retreat”.

            “Seriously, R. The new girl told us what happened”.

            He had expected that.

            “He’s worried about you, you know”.

            That he had not expected.

            “How can you possibly know that?”

            “I have eagle eyes. I’m a doctor after all. He won’t admit it out loud, but he really cares about you”.  

            “I’ll call Combeferre and get your head checked”.

            “I’m not joking, Grantaire”.

            “Fine. I’ll go have a drink, then”.

            Joly sighed, knowing his friend wouldn’t change his mind.

            “Tell Éponine I sent my regards”, he said, before turning over to finish covering Courfeyrac’s abdomen with the bandage.

-

            Enjolras knew he probably shouldn’t be doing this. The drunkard didn’t care about him or the revolution at all, so why should Enjolras care?

            He knocked on the door anyway.

            (What was happening with him?)

            There was a fumbling sound before Grantaire opened the door, eyelids heavy from drunkness.

            “Oh, Enjolras”, he slurred. “What brings Apollo to this poor mortal’s doorstep?”

            “I wish to talk to you. If you’re ok with it”, Enjolras answered.

            Inside, he saw a movement and suddenly Éponine was on her feet, making her way to the door.

            “I’ll give you guys some privacy”, she said, and before leaving she blew a kiss at Grantaire, who apparently was muttering something that suspiciously looked like “et tu, Brute?”

            With Grantaire’s consent, he entered the room. Uncomfortably looking around for a place to sit, he decided to stay on his feet, while Grantaire sat (or more likely threw himself) on the edge of the bed.

            “To what do I owe your presence, o mighty sun god?” he jested.

            “I wish to thank you. You saved Courfeyrac’s life. And you brought someone else to the cause”.

            “Courfeyrac is my friend too, you know. But you’re welcome. And ‘Chetta basically begged me to bring her over”.

            “She doesn’t seem the begging type”.

            “You’re right. She isn’t. She threatened me. With a gun. But she’s cool. And really fucking beautiful, so I decided I’d bring her over”.

            Enjolras felt his ears warming up.

            “Well, thank you anyways”, he said, hands fidgeting beside his body. “Have a good night”.

            He was making his way to the door when Grantaire called him.

            “Enjolras”.

            “Yes?” he turned around, cursing himself for sounding hopeful.

            “Are you proud?”

            “Excuse me?”

            “Of the rally today. Are you proud?”

            Enjolras blinked.

            “Yes. We knew there would be repression. We knew there would be vampires. But we’re all alive and even managed to bring more people to the cause”.

            “People have died”.

            “We knew that also”, he said without hesitation.

            “You do know you sound like a robot all the time, right?” Grantaire said. Enjolras was taken by surprise and didn’t have an answer, so the brunette continued. “You try to put this façade of a strong, fearless, emotionless leader so we follow you. But it’s so unnatural. You talk in a monotone about the deepest subjects, and yet I know inside you’re burning up with passion. You want to pass the image of being rid of emotion, being above us, but in fact you are the one of us that feels with the most intensity”.

            “I do not think my self above any of you”.

            “How can you descend from the Olympus to grace us with your presence and then say that?”

            “You’re the one who paints me up as a god. I am no god. I am just as human as any of you”.

            “You are, but you don’t want to be. You praise equality but go around giving orders. You praise liberty, but forces them on a revolution that could take their lives instead of just allowing them to enjoy it while it lasts. What’s wrong with just staying here until we grow old and die of age or something like that?”

            “Other people are suffering”.

            “People suffer all the time. That’s the human nature. You can’t change human nature. Even if this whole revolution plan succeeds, there will still be suffering on the end of it. Humans aren’t meant to be happy”.

            “People on BL facilities deserve better lives. How can you be so selfish, so content with your freedom, while other people are being enslaved and drugged daily? “

            “It’s too late for those people. We should save ourselves instead of fighting for a fruitless cause”.

            “It’s not too late for them! We can help them end their addiction, teach them how to live better lives…”

            “’Help them end their addiction?’ Jeez, I knew you’re one crazy ass idealist, but I didn’t think you were that stupid. Those are not regular drugs BL gives people. They’ve been taking them for years. If we cut them off, they’ll die”.

            “As if would know much about BL drugs! As if you would know much about anything! You claim we can have good lives here and abandon our companions yet you’re the one who leads the most miserable, pathetic life of us all! You talk as if you went through so much more than us, as if you’re so much wiser. Well. Where were you when they killed the world? Where were you when the Helium bombs fell over and killed everyone while they were trying to get away? Where were you when Paris fell and buried people I knew with it? I spent years in a BL facility and I saw the horrors that happen inside, and I tell you, no one deserves that. No one deserves that life. No one deserves that “Better Living”. And where will you stand when all the lights go out across these city streets? When BL decides they’ve had enough with us, decides to eliminate us once and for all? I’d rather die fighting for what’s right than dying of old age knowing I left good, helpless people to their horrid fate at those facilities. But, unlike you, I have something good to live for, to fight for, to die for”.

            Enjolras didn’t realize he had been yelling.

            In fact, he had just realized what he had said.

            Grantaire was staring at him, eyes empty and glassy, lips forming a thin line.

            Enjolras wanted to apologize but didn’t want to back down. He knew he had hurt Grantaire’s feelings. Again.

            Maybe he just wasn’t meant to have social interactions.

            “I live, fight, and I would die for you”, Grantaire said after a long pause. He had never sounded more sober in his entire life.

            “You don’t mean it”, Enjolras said.

            Grantaire stared deep into his soul.

            “You don’t even realize how much I love you, do you?” he said, with a sad expression.

            “You… what?”

            “Before the end of the world my parents were already drug addicts”, Grantaire started. His mind was screaming for him to stop, but the drunkenness, as usual, spoke louder. “After the Helium War things just got worse. We didn’t have money to live inside BL so we were lodged on an adjacent BL safe city. They gave us just as many drugs as they gave you inside the fabrics, but our living conditions were way worse, trust me. Sometimes there was no food and we had to steal from the neighbors, who weren’t in a much better situation than us. My father used Adrenaline the most, so you probably know how he’d get. When he got tired of beating my mom up he’d beat me, and when he got tired of me, he went for my little sister. You’re not the only one with daddy issues”.

            “Grantaire…”  
            “After my dad died my mom decided it was her turn to beat us up. I didn’t let her get any closer to my little Inès like I did with my father, and one day we decided to get away. What I didn’t know was my mom had started giving Inès her drugs too. And she didn’t make it through the abstinence”.

            Enjolras had sat up beside Grantaire on the bed, a hand on his shoulder.

            “My mom died no longer after I returned home. And I had nothing else to live for. I never got even close to the drugs they kept sending, but the happiness one was becoming tempting. And I didn’t know what to do with my life, until… until you passed by the city with your merrymen after you, speaking words of freedom and liberation. And I was hopeless. But, even if only for one second, you mere existence gave me hope. And I followed you. And even if I don’t believe in your ideals, even if I don’t believe you will succeed, I believe in you, and that is enough for me to follow you wherever you go, even if it’s through the gates of Hell”.

            Enjolras was speechless. Grantaire looked him in the eyes for the first time since the beginning of the speech, tears pooling on it. Enjolras pulled the man into a tight embrace.

            “I just don’t want you to die”, Grantaire whispered. “I don’t want anyone I love to die anymore”.

            “I know, ‘Taire, I know”, he soothed, rubbing soft circles on Grantaire’s back with his thumb. He let the brunette weep silently on his shoulder for as long as he wanted, never daring to break their embrace. “I’m sorry”.

            They stayed like that for what felt like hours, until Grantaire abruptly pulled away.

            “Oh my god, this must have been so embarrassing. I’m sorry, really sorry, you don’t have to pity me…”

            “I don’t pity you” he cut. “I would never”.

            “I’m sorry for weeping on your shoulder”.

            “That’s okay, you’re my friend Grantaire”.

            “Am I really? Because I’ve always had the impression you’re not very fond of me…”

            “That’s because you always interrupt my speeches to say something stupid and is always being sarcastic at serious, important moments”, he said lightheartedly.

            “No way, really?” Grantaire mocked.

            “See, you’re just proving my point”.

            “I really love you, you know”.

            “We’ll talk when you’re sober”.

            “My opinion will stand”.

            “We’ll see about that”.

            “I won’t be able to admit it when I’m sober”.

            “Then maybe you aren’t ready for this”.

            “Are you?”

            Enjolras didn’t answer.

            “I love stealing the words from your mouth”, Grantaire said.

            “You do seem to have this special ability”.

            “I’d rather steal them with my own mouth”.

            Enjolras felt the heat go up from his neck to his face.

            “You’re tired, go to sleep”.

            “I enjoy talking to you”.

            “Me too, but you’ve had a tough day”.

            “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

            “A little bit”.

            “I’m sorry. I’ll stop”.

            “I’ll tell Éponine she can come back inside”.

            “Okay”.

            “Have a good night”.

            “You too”.

            Enjolras got up from the bed and made his way to the door, and just as his hand twisted the doorknob, Grantaire called him again.

            “Enjolras?”

            “Yes”, he answered, chest tight.

            “Thanks for giving me hope”.

            He left the room without giving an answer, the weight of Grantaire’s words pounding their way through his brain. His heart was tight for some reason he couldn’t quite tell. He shut the door behind him with a click that sounded louder than it should have, and that broke the silence between them in a thousand fragile pieces.

_If there’s a place where I could be_

_Then I’d be another memory_

_Can I be the only hope for you?_

_Because you’re the only hope for me_

_And if we can’t find where we belong_

_We’ll have to make it on our own_

_Face all the pain and take it on_

_Because the only hope for me is you alone_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clearly I've never been to the Louvre, but I tried my best.  
> Sorry for any grammar mistakes or anything.  
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated, so is constructive criticism :)


	6. Party Poison

_This ain't a party_

_Get off the dance floor_

_You want the get down_

_Here comes the gang war_

_You're doin' alright_

_I got the answer_

_'Cause all the good times_

_They give you cancer_

            Grantaire definitely wasn’t hiding.

            He just hadn’t left his room in nearly three days, and only went to the bathroom to attend to nature’s call after midnight, and asked Éponine to bring food for him in the bedroom. This was not hiding. At all. Not even a bit.

            Okay, maybe he was hiding a little bit. But it isn’t like it was his fault.

            Fine. It was his fault.

            Stupid Enjolras and his stupid face.

            As soon as Grantaire woke up the day next The Conversation (as he decided to call it) he regretted his entire existence and wanted to bury his face in his pillow and suffocate to death. But as soon as Éponine heard him groaning and whimpering in his bed, a glass of cool water was shoved in his hand followed by something that could be an aspirin.

            “Please tell me you’re not going to do your hiding thing”, she begged, when it was already three in the afternoon and he still hadn’t left the room.

            “I do not have a ‘hiding thing’”, he replied, feigning annoyance. “I’m hungover, so I don’t feel like walking around the house talking to people”.

            “He’s going to do his hiding thing”, Bossuet muttered from his bed, on the opposite side of the room.

            “Look, just because you declared yourself for Enjolras-“, she started.

            “Éponine”.

            “And he in no moment showed any sign he reciprocated your feelings-“

            “Can you just stop?”

            “And then left you alone in the room after you two hugged for like, the first time ever-“

            “Seriously, Éponine, if you don’t stop I’ll start talking about Marius”.

            “Fine”, she said, trying to hide any trace of emotion from her voice.

            “R, it’s okay. I’m pretty sure Enjolras is not mad at you or anything. There’s no need to hide here”, Bossuet assured.

            “How can I face him after what I said?” he asked, feeling like a teenager.

            “You don’t even remember the whole conversation!” Éponine said.

            “That’s what scares me the most”.

            “Look, I’ll go talk to Combeferre and try to find out if Enjolras mentioned anything about it. Then you’ll see nothing’s wrong and finally get your ass off this bed and do something other than be sorry for yourself”, she said, walking over to the stained mirror hanging on the wall and brushing her hair with her fingers. He knew her harsh tone only meant she was trying to hide her worry.

            “What’s going on between the two of you, by the way?” Bossuet asked casually.

            Éponine turned around very slowly with her eyes creased.

            “Nothing is going on between the two of us”, she said in a monotone.

            “You’re a shit liar”, Grantaire commented from where he was laying down on the bed. Éponine looked at him menacingly.

            “Look, there’s nothing going on”, she said to both of them, turning back to the mirror. “We’re just getting closer, that’s all”.

            “Clooooooser”, Bossuet teased.

            “Oh, shut up”, she muttered. “’Ferre’s a nice guy. We’re just becoming friends”.

            “Yeah, friends”, Grantaire jested. “Let’s see just how friendly he’ll be when he gets his head between your-“ he was cut by Éponine shoving a pillow on his face and holding in on place until he couldn’t breathe and had to slap her arms away.

            It was moments like this that made Grantaire’s heart flutter in his chest. He might not believe on the revolution, but he wasn’t on it just out of his love for Enjolras. He was also there for his friendships. Bossuet, Joly, Éponine, Jehan, Bahorel, Feuilly, Courfeyrac, Combeferre, even the oblivious Marius and the sweet Cosette. They were the fuel that kept him running. Enjolras may be his god, but his friends were the foundation that kept him from falling apart. His mind could do without faith, but his heart could not do without friendship.

            This was why he was there.

            If he ignored the weird color that tinged the sky, or how the world looked dead outside the window, and the fact that they had been running and hiding for years so they could overthrow a dictatorial company that brainwashed and drugged most of the population, he could even pretend they were living normal lives.

            “I’ll go talk to ‘Ferre, be right back. Behave”, Éponine said, and just like that she was out of the room.

            “Something is definitely going to happen between the two of them”, Bossuet commented casually.

            “I hope so. Combeferre is nice, he’s going to be good for her”, Grantaire replied.

            “Yeah. Maybe this way she’ll finally get over Marius”.

            “Maybe she will”.

            “What about you?”

            “What about me?” Grantaire turned his head to look at Bossuet, confused.

            “Do you plan on getting over Enjolras?”

            Grantaire stared ahead blankly, in deep thought. Did he? He wasn’t joking when he said Enjolras had his heart and his soul. He’d rather die than to betray the man. The blond gave him something to live for when all his hope was gone. He gave him a meaning, even though he did not believe this cause would turn out well for them, his duty was to protect his friends. They were his family, a better family than any he could ever have, and Enjolras was his shining god. So above him, in any aspect, Enjolras was any and everything he could never be. He was his Apollo, speaking words of truth and prophecies of a better future. Enjoras was his unwilling Orpheus, rescuing from his personal hell with a mere gaze, even if one of disdain. Enjolras was the sun and he was Icarus burning down only to drown in a whirlpool of nothingness.

            He was in too deep to just “get over” the man.

            “No”, he answered after a long silence.

            “Really? You could give it a try, you know. That Musichetta girl is really beautiful and she seemed to like you”, he said in a weird tone.

            “I don’t think I could even if I tried”, Grantaire admitted.

            “You really love him, don’t you?” Bossuet said, sounding sad.

            Grantaire sighed.

            “Even he knows that now”, he said, regretful.

            “I meant what I said. I’m sure he’s fine with it”.

            “I’m sure he’s anything but”.

            Cutting their conversation, the door opened widely and a zombie-looking Joly entered the room. Not even bothering to take his shoes off, he dragged himself over the bed and threw himself on it, just beside Bossuet, who promptly started to caress the smaller man’s hair in a soothing way.

            “My poor doctor. You must be so tired”, he commented.

            “I think I need to sleep for two days straight to regain my energy. You’ll all be the death of me”, he mumbled, face down on the pillow.

            “How’s Courfeyrac?” Grantaire asked, feeling bad for not having visited the man again.

            “He’s getting there”, Joly said with a sigh, turning his head sideways so he could be heard. “I’m nearly running out of anesthetic. I had to put him under so that he would not injure himself further while trying to stop me from fixing his arm. How did he break it, by the way?”

            “Concrete fell over it”, he said simply.

            “Ouch”, the doctor said, shivering. “Poor Courf. He was so out of it he almost punched me. I had to put him down for his own good”.

            “We know”, Bossuet reassured, dropping a small kiss on the top of the brunette’s head.

            “He’ll wake up tomorrow, though, if you guys want to pay him a visit”, he commented, yawning.

            “Go to sleep, doc. You deserve it”, Grantaire said, getting up from the bed he shared with Éponine, Gavroche and little Azelma. “I’ll go keep an eye on him for you”.

            “Ah, no need. Enjolras is already there to make sure he’ll be okay through the night”, Joly said, eyes already closed from exhaustion.

            Grantaire immediately dropped back into the bed as if he had never gotten up in the first place. Joly didn’t even realized, having already falling asleep.

            Okay. He was hiding.

-

            “You’ve been here three days straight”.

            “Leave me to die”.

            “You’re being ridiculous. Everyone is realizing something is wrong”.

            “So be it. It’s three in the morning anyway”.

            “They’re starting to wonder if you’re traumatized”.

            “Maybe I am”.

            “Enjolras is worried”.

            “No he’s not”.

            “How can you tell?”

            “He’s Enjolras, he doesn’t worry about me”.

            “You’re being ridiculous again”.

            “That’s my specialty”.

            “I can agree to that”.

            “Just leave me here, I’m not bothering anyone”.

            “Your absence is bothering everyone”.

            “Now you’re just flattering”.

            “Just go to Enjolras and talk this through”.

            “There’s nothing to talk through”.

            “Will you just stop being such a child!”

            “What do you want me to tell him, Éponine? That I’m sorry for what I said? Maybe I’m sorry for telling him of all people, but I meant every word”.

            “So just act normally around him!”

            “How can I when I just declared myself for the man?”

            “You’re such a teenager. Just go to him and tell him you don’t want him to feel like he’s obliged to reciprocate your feelings and don’t want things to get weird between you”.

            “Is that what you told Marius?”

            Éponine blushed.

            “Yes. And he’s still my friend”.

            “But found another person”.

            Now he was just being cruel. He immediately regretted it.

            “Yes, but you know what? So did I”, she answered, angry.

            “I don’t want another person”, he whispered.

            “You’re so selfish”.

            “I know. I’m sorry”.

            “Stop apologizing to me. I’m your friend, R, I don’t want to see you lying around in the bed all the time like that. And your other friends miss you too. Bahorel wants to talk to you but, and I quote, he’s ‘too ashamed he’ll get into the room and walk on you masturbating or something’. I told him that’s rubbish but I think he just blames himself for not staying behind and helping you. You should probably talk to him, too”.

            Grantaire exhaled heavily.

            “If I go and talk to them will you let me sleep in peace?”

            “I promise on my father’s grave”, she said solemnly.

            “You hate your father”, Grantaire replied.

            “Yeah, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s dead”.

            “Will you two just shut up already?” Gavroche kicked their legs from the edge of the bed, sounding half-asleep.

            “Sorry, Gav”, Éponine whispered.

            “I’ll talk to them tomorrow”, Grantaire promised, and giving Éponine a kiss on the cheek, he turned around and stared at the wall, trying to sleep but failing miserably.

-

            As soon as Grantaire woke up from his three-hour sleep, he decided to get out of the room at last.

            It was too early for most of them to be up already – Bahorel was spread on a mattress in the middle of the living room, snoring audibly, and Éponine herself was still sleeping -, so he decided to go to the bathroom first.

            He took a quick cold shower and brushed the curly mess he called a hair as best as he could with his trembling fingers. Looking in the mirror for the first time since the day he got back, he realized he looked like shit. The bruises on his neck were still very visible, a dark shade of purple that contrasted harshly with the pale tone of his skin, but it looked like it would not take too long to fade away. He had bags under his eyes from not sleeping well in days, and his beard was already growing in an uneven pace as always. He decided there was not much he could do about his face, and put on his clothes at once.

            Since it was probably too early even to Enjolras be awake, he made his way to Courfeyrac’s room so he could check on the injured friend. Joly told him he had woken up just a day and a half before, but Grantaire hadn’t visited him yet, which made him feel guilty.

            The cynic stopped on his tracks just before entering, though, for a low familiar voice was coming from inside the room. Enjolras was whispering in a rushed tone, as if scared of being overhead, and another voice – Combeferre – was replying, or more likely inquiring.

            Grantaire knew it was very impolite to eavesdrop, and his mind was screaming for him to just walk back to his own bedroom, go back to sleep and talk to Enjolras later. But his heart – o, traitorous heart – begged him to stay, only if a little bit, just to see if his name would surge on the conversation. Cursing himself, he leaned into the door to listen better to what the pair was saying.

            “… would just be sincere with me, Enjoras. We’ve known each other since we were little kids. I know something’s off, and it’s not just because of Courf”.

            “Just leave it, ‘Ferre”.

            “It has to do with Grantaire, doesn’t it? You’ve been acting weird ever since he came back and the two of you talked”.

            “The drunkard has nothing to do with it”.

            “You lie so badly”.

            “I am not lying”.

            “But you are. You just scratched your eyebrow; you always do that right after you lie”.

            Enjolras sighed.

            “What makes you think anything Grantaire would do would affect me so badly I’d be acting weird because of it?”

            “Stop trying to hide your feelings”.

            “I have no feelings towards Grantaire”.

            Something inside Grantaire’s chest stung.

            “Are you trying to tell me you don’t care about him? At all?”

            “Yes, that is precisely what I’m saying”.

            Ouch.

            “Enjolras, hiding what you feel does not do you any well. You need to let it out, if not to Grantaire, then to me, or to anyone you feel comfortable with. Pretending nothing is happening is not healthy and I don’t think you can deny it anymore”.

            “I don’t understand what you’re saying”.

            “Would you like to tell me what you two talked about on that day?”

            There was a long pause. Grantaire didn’t even dare to breathe.

            “He declared himself to me”.

            Another long pause.

            “And how do you feel about that?”

            “I don’t know how to feel about that!”

            “Do you reciprocate his feelings for you?”

            “Combeferre, he was drunk. He wasn’t thinking straight”.

            “A drunk man’s thoughts are his true ones”.

            “He told me the life story and the reason he’s with us and how he feels about me, and I just don’t know how to deal with it all. I barely see Grantaire as a friend, let alone as a romantic interest. I never even realized he felt this way about me, how am I supposed to deal with this all of a sudden?”

            “Have you tried talking this through with him when he was sober?”

            “You know he hasn’t left his room ever since. And, to be honest, it is better this way”.

            Grantaire suddenly felt very heavy.

            He decided he couldn’t – and didn’t want to – listen to any more of it. He silently made his way back to his room, lied back down beside Éponine (who was still fast asleep) and joined her in Morpheus’s grasp.

-

            “You’re not even going to the meeting tonight?”

            “I don’t believe my presence is required”.

            “We always require your presence, R” Joly said with a shy smile.

            “Thanks, but I’ll pass”, he answered shortly, not stopping to braid Azelma’s hair.

            Éponine sat beside him, looking pissed off.

            “I’ll kill Enjolras for this” she threatened.

            “It’s not his fault he doesn’t love me”.

            “But to talk like that about you! He doesn’t know what he’s missing”.

            “You’re amazing, R” Bossuet said. “Don’t listen to him. You know how Enjolras can get. He doesn’t know how to deal with feelings very well”.

            “Is Courf attending?” he asked, subtly trying to change the subject.

            “He’s still supposed to be on bedrest but I allowed him to sit around for a little bit. If he doesn’t get too worked up”.

            “Tell him I said hi”.

            “He’s been asking about you, you know”, Joly supplied. “He hasn’t seen you since you saved his ass. He misses you”.

            “I’ll try visiting soon”, he promised, sounding empty to his own ears.

            There was a knock on the door and Combeferre opened it briefly, peeking inside.

            “We’re about to start”, he provided.

            Joly and Bossuet promptly walked over to the door, Combeferre opening it more widely so they could pass through. Éponine gave Grantaire a hug before standing up and following the pair outside.

            “You’re not coming, R?” Combeferre frowned.

            Still playing with Azelma’s hair, Grantaire answered without looking at the man.

            “No, not today. I’m feeling a little bit under the weather”.

            “You sure?”

            “Yeah, sorry”.

            “That’s okay. We’ll miss you, though”.

            “Sure you will”, Grantaire huffed. He looked up at Combeferre briefly only to see the man gazing at him oddly. He then winked at his little sister Céline sitting on the bed with them before closing the door with a nod.

            “How do you like your braid?” he asked Azelma, reaching the mirror and presenting it to her. She stared at it for a moment and broke into a wide smile that missed a couple milk teeth.

            “It’s awful!” she laughed. “I loved it!” the little girl threw herself on him, embracing him in a way only a child could, and he hugged her tightly against his chest. Somehow, he felt better about himself.

            “It’s Céline’s time now!” she said, and the quiet little girl shyly approached him on the bed. He had never spent much time with Combeferre’s little sister as much as he had with Éponine’s siblings – his siblings, too. The girl was a little older than Azelma but still younger than Gavroche, and the cynic was pretty sure he had never heard her talking much before.

            “How are you, Céline?” he asked.

            “Fine, thank you”, she answered with a small voice.

            “Céline is shy, but don’t worry, R is nice and he draws really well!” little Azelma said.

            “Yeah. I could make you a drawing if you want to” he smiled at her. The girl looked up at him, eyes shining.

            “Really?” she asked, hopeful.

            “Sure”, he said, grabbing his bag and pulling out his sketchbook and a few pencils. “What would you like me to draw you?”

            She hesitated.

            “C’mon, don’t be shy”.

            “Could… could you draw what the world was like before the war?”

            Well, that was a first.

            “Absolutely”, he answered. Both girls leaned in to watch him draw, Azelma walking behind him and peeking over his shoulder, while Céline glanced at it upside down from where she sat on the bed. It took him good twenty minutes to finish the drawing, which turned out to be a very flourished and overly happy version of his old childhood house back in Paris. His hand stung and ached since it still carried scars from the burnings he suffered on the attack to BL. He handed the drawing over with a shaky hand to the small brunette girl, who looked at it as if she was staring at pure gold.

            “It’s so beautiful!”

            “Thanks”, he said modestly.

            “Where is this place?”

            “It’s my old house. The one I lived in before the war”.

            “It’s… it’s…”

Whatever the girl was about to say was cut off by a sudden coughing fit that sent her doubling over herself and grasping the drawing tightly with one hand, while the other covered her mouth. Grantaire rubbed her back with a steady hand and Azelma brought a glass of water that laid forgotten near the bed. Céline, however, wasn’t able to drink it, for she was now kneeling on the floor, still coughing. Grantaire kneeled behind her, worried.

“Whoa, easy there, breathe” he said when the girl started to wheeze among the coughs.

But Céline was getting weaker and weaker as the cough persisted, and Grantaire tried to soothe her the best he could until the coughs finally died down gradually and she was finally able to drink from the cup with shaky, unsteady hands.

When she finally sat back down on the bed with Grantaire’s aid, she dropped the drawing that had stayed in her hand the whole time, crushed. Azelma picked it up and couldn’t help but gasp when she noticed the picture was covered in red dots that contrasted with the white of the paper.

It was blood.

-

            “I can’t help her”, Joly said mournfully.

            “There must be something you can do”, Combeferre said with sad eyes that threatened to leak tears any moment now.

            “’Ferre, I believe she has lung cancer. I can try my best to heal her, but I don’t have any equipment here. The only way I can try to help her is with the proper equipment, and even so, I’m not sure there is much I can do”.

            Combeferre lowered his head and tears dropped on his lap. He held his little sister’s hand, lying limply on the bed beside her body, and choked a sob. Enjolras took a step forward at this.

            “What kind of equipment do you need?” he asked Joly.

            “I’ll definitely need an IV equipment, corticosteroids, mitotic inhibitors, alkylating agents and any chemo drugs you can find just to be safe. I’ll need as many oxygen cylinders as possible and nasal cannula, to aid her breathing. I’m also running out of other supplies, I barely have any anesthetic left and my bandages are running low”.

            “Fine. I need you to make me a list with all these equipment and any other you may need”, Enjolras nodded briefly before turning over to make his way out of the room.

            “What are you going to do?” Combeferre asked, looking up at his friend.

            “I’m going to form a group and we’ll go through hospitals looking for the equipment to save Céline”, he answered fiercely.

            “Enjolras, this is too dangerous”, Joly reprehended. “The rally was barely four days ago, there must be S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/Ws all over the country searching for us. You can’t go around looking for supplies; not right now”.

            “Joly, I know I am not a doctor and I don’t expect myself to ever know as many things related to medicine as you do, but I can tell she doesn’t have much time before it’s too late for any kind of treatment. I will not let one of our own die in favor of my own safety. I will be careful and I will take good men with me. And I will bring back whatever it takes to help Céline”.

            Before Joly could answer, Enjolras was already out of the room, taking firm steps towards the living room, where everyone who was attending to the meeting was waiting for news on Combeferre’s little sister. A frantic Grantaire, who had gestured wildly at his room while trying to explain what happened, had abruptly interrupted the meeting. Joly had been the first to realize what was going on, followed by Combeferre, and the pair ran from their spots to aid the girl. Enjolras had followed, finding horrified the girl’s exhausted body wheezing, clumsily nested on Grantaire’s pillows. The rest of them awaited on the room, anxious yet too apprehensive of interrupting the personal moment.

            “I need anyone who wants to volunteer to join me in a group and catch supplies from nearby hospitals”, Enjolras announced, voice vibrating strongly through the room.

            “How’s Céline?” Éponine asked.

            “I’ll go!” Gavroche offered.

            “She is in bad shape and needs immediate treatment. But Joly does not have the necessary supplies; therefore we must get them before it’s too late”.

            “Count me in”, Bahorel announced. Enjolras nodded gratefully at him.

            “I’m in, too”, announced Bossuet.

            “So am I”, said Éponine.

            “I’ll go”, a new recruit, Antoine, raised from his seat.

            “I’ll go”, Jehan said.

            “Me too”, said Marius, accompanied by Cosette.

            “I’ll go too!” said Gavroche.

            “Gavroche, you’re not going anywhere, sit the fuck down”, hissed Éponine.

            “But Céline is my friend, I want to help her!” he said, angry.

            “It’s too dangerous. You’re not going”.

            “But I – mff!” he was cut by Éponine covering his mouth with her hand.

            “I will go, too”, announced Feuilly.

            Enjolras nodded at all of them solemnly. Looking around the room to see if there would be any more volunteers, his eyes met Grantaire’s. The cynic had conveyed his bed to Céline and had had no other choice than to join the rest of the group outside his bedroom.

            The blond stared the cynic for a long time, something unspoken hanging in the air between them. Enjolras realized he was hoping Grantaire would volunteer to go with them, but the man remained silent, something odd in the way he was looking at Enjolras. The leader felt something uncomfortable twist in his gut.

            “That’s settled, then” he announced, breaking eye contact with Grantaire. “We’ll leave tomorrow night. Be prepared”.

            The group dissolved into a low chatter about what had happened and what each of them had to take on their mission, and if Enjolras avoided looking at Grantaire as he made his way back to the man’s room to check on Combeferre, he wouldn’t admit it, not even to himself.

-

            “Are you sure about this?” Grantaire asked Jehan for the fourth time.

            “Yes, ‘Taire, I am”, he answered, rolling his eyes. “I’ll be fine, don’t you worry”.

            “But, my sweet poet, how do you expect to be of any aid to them when you’re so petite and as delicate as a flower?”

            Jehan blushed.

            “A rose’s thorns can hurt as much as any other. You insult me by insinuating I cannot help because of my size. I can be as wild as any of you”.

            “I don’t doubt it, dear Jehan”, he said, pulling the annoyed man into an embrace. “But don’t you think you’d be of more use beside your beloved?”

            Jehan blushed more, if that was possible, freckles disappearing completely.

            “He’s not my beloved. I just… he’s … we’re not…”

            “I know, I know”, Grantaire eased him. “But I do believe Courf will miss you”.

            “We need those supplies. Céline needs them the most. And Enj needs anyone who’s willing to help. To be honest, I’m surprised you’re not coming”.

            Grantaire sighed, pushing Jehan away but still keeping both his hands on the poet’s shoulders.

            “Not this time. Someone needs to stay behind and keep an eye on Courf”.

            “Joly’s doing that”.

            “Joly’s only human and humans need to sleep. We don’t want doc overworking himself and not being able to help, do we?”

            “Yes, but what’s the real reason R?”

            “Can’t I worry about my friend’s well-being?”

            “You always do, but that has never stopped you from following Enjolras around on every mission you can. So what’s different this time?”

            “Can’t you just let it go?”

            “I’m worried about you, ‘Taire”.

            “And I about you. You’re the one going to a suicide mission”.

            “It’s not suicide. We’re going to be fine”.

            “How can you tell?”

            “Éponine is going. Nothing bad ever happens when Ép is there to look out for our asses”.

            “That’s true”.

            “Also, you’re not going, so no one is going to do something stupid like blow up a corridor or set themselves on fire”.

            “That’s also true. Good thing I’m not going, then”.

            “But I’ll miss you, R”.

            “So will I, dearest poet. But worry not: you have an avenging angel by your side to protect you; an Antinous wild”.

            “And why will Dionysus not join the party? The god of wine never misses one”.

            “He won’t be attending this one because it is not a party, but a chaotic gathering attempting to fix something already beyond repair”.

            “Don’t let ‘Ferre hear you saying this”.

            “I won’t”.

            “Keep an eye on Courf for me, will you? And on ‘Ferre, too. They both need it”.

            “I will. Take care of yourself, my precious poet”, Grantaire said, pulling him for another hug.

            “Don’t worry about me”.

-

            They decided it was safer to leave in the morning, when they wouldn’t need to use flashlights so search for the equipment and therefore attract more attention and be more easily spotted. Grantaire wanted to disagree (as usual)) but this time he knew Enjolras had a point. They wouldn’t be safe either way, whether it was day or night, but the sunlight provided better illumination and it was always good to know which way you are supposed to shoot at.

            Grantaire said his goodbyes to everyone except Enjolras. Every single Ami had realized by now that something was off – even the new ones the cynic hadn’t had a chance to talk to. As soon as Éponine disappeared through the door, closing it behind her, he made his way straight to Courfeyrac’s room, not only to check on the friend but also on Céline and Combeferre.

            “How’s everyone doing today?” he asked, unusually cheerful (which earned him a frown from Joly, who was gathering some of his medical equipment on the corner of the room).

            “I’m good to leave and move on with my life”, Courfeyrac said mournfully from his bed. “Please, R, end my suffering. Tell Joly private incarceration is a crime, even if we don’t have much of a society anymore. I’ll still fight for my rights”.

            “Don’t talk like that!” Joly complained, sounding hurt. “I’m only doing what’s best for you. Your arm isn’t fully healed and you can barely walk around the apartment without getting exhausted in a few minutes. As soon as you’re completely healthy I’ll let you out of my watch”.

            “Help me” Courfeyrac mouthed at Grantaire as the doctor turned his back to keep organizing his things.

            “Sorry, Courf” Grantaire said. “Doctor’s orthers”.

            “As if you’re one of following orders”, the raven complained, false betrayal evident in his voice.

            “Do as I say, not as I do”.

            “A very hypocrite statement”.

            “It suits me well, then”.

            “If only there were still TV for us to watch. It would make this more bearable”, Courf complained.

            “You can always watch the security channel. And the propaganda channel. Or one of those awful things they play and call TV shows”, Joly muttered, not looking at him.

            “If you want to kill me of boredom just tell me, Jol. So I can get prepared and start writing my last will”.

            “I thought everyone already had one of those ready by now”, Grantaire commented.

            “Most of us are a little bit more optimistic than that”, Joly answered, sounding upset and passing by him carrying a big box full of clothes. Before he made his way out of the room, Courfeyrac called him.

            “Jol’, you know I’m just messing with you, right? I really appreciate everything you’ve been doing for me”.

            “Yeah, yeah, I know”, he said,  putting his box down and leaning on the wall. “I’m just so tired. And now Bossuet’s out in this mission with them, and I’m worried about him. about all of them”.

            “We know, Joly. Come here”, Grantaire tried to comfort him, pulling him into a tight embrace. He seemed to be hugging a lot of people lately. “Bossuet will be alright, they all are”.

            “Thanks, R. It means a lot coming from you”, he whispered, hugging him back.

            “You want some help with that?” he said, nodding towards the box on the floor.

            “No, it’s okay. It’s not heavy at all. I’ll try to get some sleep now. Can you keep an eye on them for me?”

            “Sure”.

            “Don’t let Courf get out of his bed for anything other than going to the bathroom. And please, make sure Combeferre eats something? He’s been here all this time, sleeping on the bed with Céline, and I didn’t have the time to make sure he’s eating properly”.

            “That’s okay, leave it to me. Go get some sleep, you deserve it. Also, if you bribe Azelma with cookies she’ll caress your hair until you sleep”.

            “Thanks, R”, he said with a short laugh. “I’ll come back later to check on them”.

            “Don’t worry. They are in more than capable hands”.

            “No they aren’t!” Joly jested.

            “Yeah, but don’t let them know that”.

            With a final laugh, Joly picked up his box and left the room, Grantaire closing the door behind him. He then made his way to a grumpy Courfeyrac who tried to get up as soon as Joly left, and had to convince him to stay on the bed under the threat of sending a full, detailed report of every dangerous thing he had ever done while drunk with him to both Joly and Enjolras. That settled him down. Grantaire covered the unwilling man with a blanket like a mother hen and told him to go to sleep.

            He then walked over to Céline’s bed. The girl was looking very pale and seemed to be breathing with difficulty. Her forehead was creased in a pained frown and her fingers gripped the sheet around her weakly. Combeferre was lying right beside her, her head leaning on his shoulder, and he too seemed to be having some unpleasant sleep. Grantaire didn’t want to wake him up, but if he knew the man, he probably hadn’t eaten anything since the incident with Céline. Looking around Joly’s desk – now organized, after all the busy days they had been going through – he found a few cereal bars and a bottle of water. It was better than nothing.

            He gently shook Combeferre’s shoulder, careful not to wake Céline up, until the brunette blinked his eyes open and stared at him, confused. As soon as he fully regained consciousness, he reached for his glasses, that were nearly falling off the bed beside his head. Carefully, he took his little sister’s head from where it was cradled on his shoulder, placing it back on the pillow. He got up from the bed and walked to the corner of the room, followed by the cynic, so that their conversation didn’t wake Céline.

            “Eat this”, Grantaire handed him the cereal bars and the water, sounding more imperative than he had intended.

            “Have they left already?” Combeferre asked, his voice husky from sleep.

             “Yeah, about ten minutes ago. Enjolras didn’t want to waste any time”.

            Combeferre glanced at the cereal bars with something akin to disgust.

            “I’m not hungry”.

            “What’s the last time you’ve eaten?”

            “You’re sounding like me”.

            “My main task on this group is to take care of you people when you’re too fucked up to take care of yourselves”.

            “I can take care of myself”.

            “Evidence shows you can’t”.

            “Fine, I’ll eat. Thank you, R”.

            “Don’t mention it. How’s Céline?”

            Combeferre sighed, rubbing his eyes with more force than necessary.

            “She… well. She’s as good as you can get with untreated lung cancer. I only wish I could do more for her… she’s the only family I have left”.

            Grantaire felt the urge to tell the man that the Amis were his family too, but felt like the moment was inappropriate.

            “And now Enjolras and everyone went on this quest to bring back things that may help her through, but we don’t even know if they’ll come back. It’s too dangerous. There are probably S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/Ws everywhere, looking for the slightest chance to find us and our location. But Enjolras just… he… he can be so stubborn sometimes”.

            “I know”, Grantaire said, feeling uncomfortable. “But don’t you worry. Everyone will come back just fine”.

            “It’s weird”, Combeferre commented, while chewing his cereal bar.

            “What?”

            “You. Sounding so positive”.

            “Yeah, I’m not this pit of negative thoughts and pessimism all the time, you know”.

            “I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just… it’s unusual to see you acting so optimistic. Especially when it comes to Enjolras’ and one of his suicide missions”.

            “Someone has to hope when no one else does. Since Joly is asleep and Courf is still a little high on his meds, the duty fell upon my unaccustomed shoulders.

            “Maybe it’ll be good for you, you know”.

            “As soon as any of you is emotionally healthy enough to look for the silver lining, I’ll return to my natural state of doubt and skepticism, don’t worry about it”.

            “Don’t talk like that”.

            “Why not? It’s the way I am”.

            “Enjolras would be proud of you for supporting us and not letting us give up hope”.

            Grantaire huffed out a sarcastic laugh.

            “Enjolras wouldn’t be proud of me even if I blew up all the BL facilities in the world and reestablished the society under a benevolent, equalitarian setting”.

            “We both know that’s not quite true”.

            “But it is. No matter what I do, he will never see me as anything other than a useless drunkard. He doesn’t even care about me”.

            “What makes you think that?”

            “The fact that these words left his own mouth”, Grantaire answered without thinking. He immediately regretted it, feeling heat go up his cheeks and not daring to look Combeferre in the eye.

            “So you’ve been eavesdropping”, Combeferre reprehended, after a small pause.

            “It wasn’t my intention. I was coming over to check on Courf, and I left as soon as I realized your conversation did not belong in my ears”.

            “Enjolras is too harsh with his words and is incapable of dealing properly with his own feelings. You must not take everything he says to the heart. He didn’t mean what he said, he was confused and angry at the situation. The anger takes the best of him, sometimes”.

            “Yeah, but that doesn’t stop him from saying it. He may not intend to deliver the blow, but that does not change the fact that I get punched all the same”.

            “He doesn’t mean to hurt you”.

            “But he does”.

            “You’re not very helpful yourself, Grantaire. Perhaps if  you mocked his ideals less, and showed your support more often, he’d be able to recognize and understand how he feels about you, instead of getting caught in frustration and annoyance all the time”>

            “’How he feels about me’? Enjolras has no feelings for me. He said so himself”.

            “It is not my place to discuss about Enjolras’ feelings with you. You two should talk this through when he gets back”.

            “There is nothing to discuss. I told him how I felt and he does not feel the same way about me. There’s nothing I can do about it. So I won’t dwell on it”.

            Combeferre sighed deeply, disposing himself of the cereal bars’ wrapping paper.

            “You both are so stubborn that neither realize what is clear for everyone else”.

            Before Grantaire could ask what he meant by that, the door opened and Azelma came in shyly – which was unusual -, walking straight over to the cynic.

            “What’s up, little Thénardier?” he greeted, trying to sound casual.

            “Have you seen Gav around?” she asked, worried.

            “He’s not here. I thought he was at the living room?”

            “He’s not there. I haven’t seen him since last night when we went to sleep. I already looked though the whole house and asked people around, but no one has seen him since yesterday, either”.

            Sudden realization fell upon him as he remembered Gavroche volunteering so desperately to join the group in their mission to the hospitals. Just as his older sister, Gavroche wasn’t one to take a negative as an answer without trying to fight back. Grantaire felt all the blood rushing from his head to the bottle of his stomach, heart drumming crazily in his chest, a thousand images of Gavroche, his little brother, not in blood but in bond, getting killed by vampires on that godforsaken mission, being shot, being hurt. Éponine returning with his dead, or badly injured body, cursing everything and everyone. Why had he not kept an eye on the boy? What was Grantaire doing instead of taking care of the young Thénardier? Why did he not make sure Gavroche would be away from any trouble? He felt the guilt taking hold of a strong grip on his heart.

            “Son of a bitch”, Grantaire muttered.

-

            The first one to find out, for his luck, was Jehan Prouvaire.

            The redhead was horrified and seemed to be about to scream at him, but he managed to cover the man’s mouth with his hand before he did.

            He knew his sister would eventually find out, but he wanted to save the yelling and the scowling for when they got back.

            Gavroche had woken up earlier than usual that morning, his plan already clear on his head after reviewing it over and over since Enjolras announced they needed to help Céline. Taking care not to wake anyone in the room up, he got out of the bed as quietly as possible and picked his backpack from the floor where he had put it last night, already stocked with everything he could need. Two bottles of water, a couple snack bags – they shouldn’t be off for more than a day -, two knives Grantaire had presented him with not too long ago, his laser gun and as much ammo as he could stuff on the bag. He piled his pillows and covered them with a blanket, a messy and very cliché attempt to hide the fact that he was no longer on the bed. He made sure everyone on the living room was fast asleep before making his way to the front door, opening and closing it quickly to avoid being seen.

            As soon as he was out of the apartment, he let out a sigh of relief. He went down the building’s stairs in a quick pace, yet being as quiet as he could – something he did very well – and taking care not to fall over due to the dust that made the stairs slippery or some wreckage that was smeared across the steps. Getting out was the toughest part, since he was smaller than the other Amis and would have some trouble climbing his way out through the first floor’s window without any assistance. But he wouldn’t let this stop him. Throwing his backpack before him – and trying carefully to hear any sound that indicated that the noise had woken someone up back in the tenth floor -, he managed to fit his small body  through the half open window without having to pull it up (therefore, leaving clue that someone had passed through there). He soon found himself suspended outside the building, holding tight on the parapet trying not to fall in a wrong way. It took him some time to find support for his feet, but he relaxed as soon as he did. He was used to climbing things ever since he was a toddler, he would get out of this just fine.

            He rolled his body midair and managed to fall on his feet like a cat.

            (His feet hurt like hell at the fall but he’d never admit that).

            The sun was beginning to rise and that meant the Amis would wake up any minute now to prepare to go ontheir mission. Gavroche picked his loaded gun from his backpack and put it on the back of his pants, just like Bossuet did. Picking up his bag from the ground, he made his was as fast as possible to where Feuilly had parked the cars, not even a street away from their building. He knew they left the cars unlocked, in case they had an emergency and had to escape immediately: it was not like the vampires had any way of knowing which cars were theirs and which were abandoned on the streets. So Gavroche quickly opened the car trunk, got inside it and closed it, knowing the Amis would only have to open it after the mission was over, and by then, he would have already revealed his presence and managed to help save Céline’s life. He wouldn’t let one of his best friends die when he had the means to try and help her.

            It was nearly an hour and a half of boredom later that he heard the sound of approaching footsteps, the car doors opening and closing and indistinct chatter coming from inside. From the voices he heard, he was in the car with Jehan, Marius, Cosette and Bossuet. Thank god Éponine hadn’t chosen this one for the ride, even though he knew precisely why.

            Gavroche was hoping they’d make the whole way to the first hospital before he had to reveal himself, but one of the amis asked Jehan to open the trunk to check for something he couldn’t quite hear, so they found out about his presence a little sooner than planned. Before the poet could manage to scream at him Gavroche stopped him, covering the man’s mouth. This brought the attention of the other amis in the car, since Jehan was cut mid phrase.

            “What the hell do you think you’re doing here!” Jehan exclaimed, shoving Gavoche’s hand away from his mouth.

            “Gavroche! How did you even get here!” Marius yelled.

            “Oh my god, Éponine is going to be so pissed!” added Cosette.

            “You know you’re dead, right?” Bossuet asked from his place in the driver’s seat.

            “I wanted to help, so I came along. There is no way any of you will stop me from helping my friend”, he said, sounding more confident than he actually felt.

            “That does not change the fact that Ép will have your head in a silver tray”, the bald man replied.

            “Gav, this is too dangerous, okay?” Jehan added, trying to sound mad but coming out as soothing. “You shouldn’t have come and we will have to tell your sister about it”.

            “She would find out anyway. But I just want to help, and I will. I can fight vampires as well as any of you”.

            “No you can’t. You’ll stay in the car while we go there and you won’t even think about leaving it”, Marius ordered.

            “You’re not the boss of me!”

            “But your sister is and she will agree with me. This is too dangerous and you have no training!”

            “Gavroche, how do you think Céline will feel if you get hurt, huh?” Cosette asked. “She’ll feel guilty and responsible for your injuries. And we can’t have her even more stressed out than she already is or she might get worse”.

            “But I won’t be hurt! I know how to shoot and we don’t even know if there will be any trouble. I will help”, the boy stated.

            “Yeah, fine, you know what? We leave it for Éponine to decide when we reach the hospital. It’s her brother, she’ll know what to do”, Bossuet said.

            “No, she won’t”, Jehan said thoughtfully. “She’ll just scream at him and probably lock him up in the car”.

            “Yeah”, Gavroche agreed.

            “You deserve it, though”, Bossuet added. “You shouldn’t have come”.

            “Well, it’s too late to take him back or we’ll delay the others. He’ll have to come along”, Jehan stated. “But it’s up to Ép what we’ll do with him”.

            Gavroche’s stomach twisted uncomfortably.

-

            “WHAT ON HELL’S NAME DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING HERE!” was Éponine’s greeting as soon as they all left their cars. “WHO BROUGHT HIM OVER? WHO BROUGHT HIM?” she inquired quite aggressively, looking at all of them as if they were traitors.

            “’Ponine, calm down”, Jehan soothed, raising his hands in a defending gesture. “He hid in our car and we only found him midway here. There was no way of taking him back”.

            “Yeah, the little brat have some balls. He really wants to help up”, Bossuet added casually.

            “Help? HE WANTS TO HELP? HE’S THE ONE WHO WILL NEED HELP AFTER I KICK HIS LITTLE ASS”, she yelled, throwing herself to the boy, who managed to slither away from her grip and run, his bigger sister right after on his heels.

            “’Ponine, just listen to me!” he said as she gripped his arm and dragged him back to the car furiously. “I know how to shoot! I can help!”

            “No way. You’re staying in the car with me”, she opened the door and shoved the boy unceremoniously inside.

            “You’re gonna stay in the car?” Bahorel inquired, sounding disappointed.

            “Yes, I will, or Gavroche will run away as soon as he can and get in trouble. I’ll cover the entry for you and if any trouble shows up, I’ve got your backs”.

            “That sounds good, actually”, Enjolras commented. “Marius, Cosette, stay with them and help covering us. We’ll get inside, take what we can and get out as soon as possible. Shout if you see anything”.

            If Enjolras saw the way Éponine glared at him with a death stare, he didn’t comment.

            With a final nod, the group split and entered the abandoned hospital, leaving the four of them behind.

            An awkward silence fell upon them right after they lost sight of the rest of the amis, Gavroche refusing to look at his sister and with arms crossed over his chest from where he sat inside the car. Cosette was leaning uncomfortably outside it, visibly trying to keep her distance with Marius so things wouldn’t get more awkward. Marius, on the other way, seemed confused as to why Cosette was being modest, and tried to pass his arm over her shoulder twice before receiving a meaningful stare from the petite girl. At this, he seemed to realize what the issue was, and mimicked her gesture, leaning away from the blonde. Éponine rolled her eyes slightly, not letting them see it and pretending to stare up at the sky.

            “We should probably get in the car, too”, the brunette said after a while. “I mean, in case a vampire passes by. It’ll be more difficult to spot us if we’re inside the car”.

            “You’re right”, Cosette answered, sounding sympathetic.

            The three of them got in the car, Marius and Cosette taking the front seats and Éponine taking the back one beside her unwilling little brother.

            The silence between them was so awkward it stung.

            “So, Ép”, Marius said after a while. “How is it going with Combeferre?”

            Cosette’s facepalm was very visible despite her attempt to hide it, and Éponine felt the blood rushing to her face. Marius didn’t seem to understand why they were reacting that way, and looked around like a confused puppy, yearning for answers.

            “I don’t know what you mean”, Éponine muttered after a while, sounding embarrassed.

            “Oh, sorry”, he said honestly. “I thought there was something going on between the two of you; Cosette told me she saw you two kissing and I thought that maybe you were finally getting over-“

            “Marius!” Cosette interrupted him, exasperated. Éponine looked like she was trying to be swallowed by the car seat.

            Marius looked at his girlfriend, more confused than ever. He finally seemed to realize what he was doing wrong, and blushed.

            “Sorry. I’m sorry, Ép, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m so sorry”.

            ‘How can anyone be so oblivious?’, Éponine asked herself.

            “That’s okay”, she muttered, not looking at the man.

            “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to gossip”, Cosette quickly explained. “I just accidentally saw you two last night and I thought something was going on. I really shouldn’t have told anyone without your consent. I apologize”.

            Éponine sighed.

            “That’s okay. It’s not like it’s top secret or anything. It was just a kiss”.

            “Even so, I am sorry”, Cosette said.

            “You two make a cute couple”, Marius commented with an embarrassed smile, and Éponine felt herself blushing harder.

            “Marius, you suck at this”, she commented trying to sound casual.

            This earned a laugh from everyone in the car, except for Gavroche, who was still staring anywhere but at his sister, still looking angry.

            “I know. I’m trying to be better. I’m sorry”, he said with a sad smile.

            They fell on a comfortable silence, Éponine looking outside the window on the opposite direction from her little irresponsible brother.

            The other amis had been inside the hospital for ten minutes when Gavroche cut the silence in the car.

            “Are those vampires?” the boy asked, looking out the window and creasing his eyes. The three of them looked at that direction at the same time, and Cosette was the first one to see them. A group of five S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/Ws were walking up the road, apparently heading to the hospital.

            “Everyone get down!” Éponine whispered, and they all lied down on the seats, trying to hide from the sight of the incoming vampires.

            “What are we going to do?” Gavroche asked lowly, suddenly forgetting he was mad at Éponine.

            “We let them go in. We shoot them from behind” Éponine answered, trying to pick out the window without exposing too much of her head.

            “What if they shoot our friends first?” Marius asked, sounding horrified.

            “They won’t. Enjolras and the guys must be upstairs, we can shoot them down before they even catch a glimpse on them”.

            “Alright. That sounds like a plan”, Cosette muttered. “As soon as they get in we get out of the car, then. Éponine, can you see if any more of them are coming up the road?”

            Éponine raised her head to look out the window again, seeing nothing but the empty road.

            “No”.

            “Fine. Marius, let us know when they’re in, we can’t let them spend too much time in there”.

            “Okay. One of them got in but the other four are at the door”, he provided. “They’re all getting inside now”, he said after a few seconds. “Yeah, they’re all inside”.

            “Okay, let’s go!” said Cosette, getting up from her seat and opening the door slowly not to make noise. She hopped out of the car, Marius right behind her, and Éponine opened the back door, hopping out too. She stopped on her tracks when she realized Gavroche was right behind her.

            “Get the fuck back to the car!” she whispered furiously. “This is not the time, Gavroche, I swear to god, just go back to the car”.

            “No, I’m going to help!” he whispered back, passing her and marching in a rapid pace towards the hospital. Éponine knew if she locked him inside the car he’d find a way out anyway. Sighing, and feeling her heart tighten, she followed him.

            Just as she entered the building the first shots were heard. Cosette and Marius had taken cover behind a pillar of the somewhat not-utterly-destroyed hospital, Gavroche mimicking the action on the opposite pillar. Cosette was shooting at the vampires, who had also taken cover, while Gavroche cradled his laser gun against his chest. Éponine was making her way to her brother when one of the vampires saw her and started aiming his shots at her. She had no other option than to jump over the reception desk at the hospital and take cover, dozens of laser shots flying over her head. By now, the amis must have heard the commotion taking place downstairs, and realized something was wrong.

            Taking a deep breath and holding the gun tightly on her grip, she got up from her hiding spot and started to shoot recklessly at the vampires, Cosette following her. A laser shot grazed her shoulder and another grazed her thigh, but none caused any serious damage other than smoke the fabric of her clothing. Éponine finally shot one of the vampires on the head, his body flying back and colliding with the ground like a puppet. Cosette soon managed to kill the other one, and the hospital hall was left empty with only the four amis standing on it. The three other S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/Ws had gotten deeper inside the building, nowhere to be seen.

            Just as Éponine was checking on the first vampire to catch his guns and ammo, she realized something was off. A device – that looked somewhat like a pager – was blinking a red light as if activated. She picked it up, doubting it was a bomb, only to find coordinates on the display screen.

            Shit.

            “We need to get out of here right now!” she announced. “Let’s go fetch the others!”

            “What happened?” Gavroche asked, trying to look over her shoulder as she smashed the device on the ground and shot it with her laser gun.

            “I think they got our location and spread it to other vampires, we need to leave!”

            “Oh my god”, Marius muttered. “Fine, but there are still three of them in here, how are we-“

            “Watch out!” Gavroche yelled just as a vampire came out from inside of one of the rooms and started shooting at them. Gavroche promptly – and very much out of reflex – raised his gun and shot at their attacker, straight on the chest, and the vampire was sent back flying.

            Marius looked at him as if he had grown a second head.

            “I told you guys I can shoot, now let’s go!” he said.

            “Okay, come on!” said Cosette, going further into the hospital and making her way to the stairs.

            Just as they were going up, they bumped into an astonished Bahorel making his way down the stairs, followed by Feuilly.

            “What the fuck is going on down here?” he asked.

            “Five S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/Ws got inside and we tried to stop them. Two are still on the lose” Cosette explained, followed by the sound of a shot. They all looked back, guns raised, only to see Éponine putting her own gun down, and one of the vampires dead by her feet, smoke still coming up from where the laser had hit him.

            “One is still on the lose”, she corrected.

            “Have you guys found what you needed?” Marius asked, frantic.

            “Yeah, all that we need is here so we don’t need to go to any other hospital. The guys are finishing to pick it up so we can get out of here”, Feuilly answered.

            “Yeah, we really need to get out of here, though”, Éponine announced. “I found something with one of them that looked like some sort of tracker; it had coordinates that could very well be our location. I smashed it and shot it just to be sure, but I don’t know how many of them got that”.

            “Shit”, Bahorel and Feuilly said at the same time.

            “We’ll go up and help you with the equipment so we can leave this godforsaken place”, Cosette said, following the two man back upstairs. Marius went right behind her, leaving Éponine and Gavroche alone by the stairs.

            “Someone should stay back just to make sure that one vampire doesn’t sneak around and shoots them”, the older sister said.

            “Yeah, I think we can handle it”, Gavroche replied.

            “That was a nice shot you took back there, by the way”, she commented.

            “Thanks”, he muttered with a wicked smile.

            “That doesn’t mean you’re no longer in trouble for coming here with us illegally”, she muttered, gaining an eye roll from her baby brother.

            “Aw, come on”, he complained.

            “But seriously, that was really irresp-“

            Éponine was cut off by a sudden clattering sound on the hall behind them.

            “Stay here”, she mouthed to Gavroche, as she leaned away from the stairs and walked slowly towards the hall, gun raised on her hands. She looked around carefully, searching for any sign of trouble. She was nearly getting to the hospital’s front door when the vampire finally got out from his hiding spot behind the counter and started shooting at her. She managed to duck just in time to avoid being shot, and proceeded to start shooting at the vampire herself.

            It took her some ammunition and a painful shot to the leg before she finally took down the S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W and limped her way to him, checking if he had any device alike the one she had destroyed. When she found none, she went back to Gavroche with some difficulty.

            “Are you okay?” he asked, terrified, taking a sight of her injured leg.

            “Been better. I’ll be fine though. Go find the others upstairs and tell them to hurry the fuck up, please”, she asked, and Gavrohe was gone in an instant, footsteps disappearing in the distance.

            She managed to sit down on the step and take a good look at her leg. The fucker had hit her right in her thigh, the laser burning a hole through the jeans and hitting her flesh mercilessly. She tried to touch it to see how deep it was but hissed at the contact with the sensitive skin.

            Just then, a car passed by the hospital.

            “Holy shit”, Éponine muttered to herself as she tried to stand up. The suddenness of the movement made her injured leg tremble and she was sent back down, falling hard on her backside. She tried to gain some support by leaning on the handrail, and was almost managing to haul herself up when the group came marching down the stairs, hands full of fat bags and Bahorel carrying two metal boxes. “A car just passed by”, she said, breathless, yet she hadn’t even realized the trouble she was having to suck in a deep breath before.

            Jehan was the one to offer her support, passing her arm above his shoulder and taking the weight from her bad leg so she could stand up. Gavroche – who, despite being younger, was almost as tall as his sister – assisted her from her other side. That way they managed to limp throught the hall and out the hospital, Enjolras, as usual, leading their way.

            Just as they set foot outside, though, a car full of vampires parked clumsily beside the hospital. Jehan and Gavroche immediately pulled her back inside, taking cover, as Enjolras, Antoine, Bahorel and Feuilly ran to one of the cars. Marius, Cosette and Bossuet covered for them, shielding themselves behind another car, this one abandoned on the street. Another vehicle full of vampires parked up just as Enjolras had gotten himself inside of his car with the three other man, driving over to try to provide some better shield so the other three amis could make it to the other car safely.

            Cosette and Marius threw themselves inside one of the cars while Bossuet went for the other one, so he could pick Éponine, Gavroche and Jehan, who were still hiding inside the hospital. Bossuet was driving carelessly through the sidewalk to pick the trio up when some of the vampires opened fire against him, making him lean down on the seat and lose direction of the car, pulling the brakes abruptly. As long as he stayed inside the car and out of the window’s reach there was no risk of him getting shot, but the attackers realized it and soon moved closer to his vehicle, intending to open the doors.

            At this, Enjolras hopped out of his own car and started shooting at the creatures, Bahorel following him, while Feuilly and Antoine made sure neither of them got shot from behind and kept the equipment in their car safely protected. While Enjolras fired relentlessly against the S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/Ws, Bahorel ran over to the trio on the hospital, picking Éponine up bridal style and running back to Bossuet’s car, now protected by the blond leader. Jehan held Gavroche’s hand tightly and pulled him after the two of them, Enjolras still covering the best he could, their three cars serving as a shield against many of the laser shots.

            The shield was broke, though, as Bossuet had to drive away due to the vampires getting too close and attempting to open his door to pull him out. Many S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/Ws broke into their thin makeshift fort then, making Enjolras have to throw himself inside his car to prevent being shot and Bahorel shove Éponine and his own bag inside Bossuet’s moving car. Marius and Cosette were trying to run over some of the vampires unsuccessfully, and drove off before they could get caught by them. Bahorel entered Bossuet's car after Éponine and managed to pull Gavroche inside. That was when Jehan fell over, a vampire grasping his ankle, and unintentionally pulled the young Thénardier with him as he tried to hold on something. Bahorel tried to get hold of Éponine’s young brother, but his hand slipped away from his grasp as Bossuet kept driving, unaware of what had happened.

            “No! Gavroche!” Éponine screamed, her face pale and sweaty due to the pain. “Bossuet, turn back! You have to turn back!”

            Looking back through the rearview mirror, Bossuet took in the situation. Jehan was lying on the floor, seeming injured, as three S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/Ws held him down and injected him with something on a big, menacing looking syringe. The poet seemed to lose consciousness, and his limp body was dragged harshly to one of BL’s cars. Gavroche, on the other side, was kicking and biting the vampires as wildly as an animal, trying desperately to get away. It took five of them to hold him down and inject him with the same substance, and even so the young boy kept kicking and throwing punches until he finally passed out. He was thrown in the same car as Jehan, and the vehicle quickly took off, leaving around fifty vampires behind to pursue them.

            There was no way he could turn back to catch them.

            “What are you doing? TURN BACK! WE CAN’T JUST LEAVE THEM! TURN THE FUCK BACK!” Éponine screamed, desperate. Bahorel sent Lesgle an uneasy glance through the mirror, only to see silent tears running down the bald man’s cheeks as he drove. Something snapped inside him.

            He held Éponine close despite the girl’s violent protests and let her sob on his shoulder, the tears staining his shirt and her shakes echoing through his body. He heard Enjolras barking commands through the window of his own car as they drove side by side, but didn’t bother to understand what he was saying. Images of a young Gavroche being tortured or drugged, alone in an empty, white room, filled his mind. Thoughts of Jehan crying himself to sleep as he wondered why he was stuck in one of those damned rooms once again made him tremble.

            “…rel, Bahorel, are you with me?” he heard Bossuet calling through the haze in his mind.

            “What?” he asked harshly.

            “They can’t find where we live. Enjolras wants us to use plan B” the man said in a rushed tone.

            “And you want me to do it?” he complained.

            “Feuilly will do it to from the other car. But we need at least two for it to be efficient. I know you need your time, ‘Rel, but they really can’t follow us any further”.

            “Fine”, he muttered angry, gently taking a catatonic Éponine away from his arms and placing her back on her seat. He pulled one of the bags he had taken with him from where it rested forgotten at the car’s floor, opening it. Pulling out a pack full of dynamite, he searched for his lighter.

            With a nod from Bossuet, he opened the car window, finding Enjolras’ car right beside his with Feuilly at its window, explosives also on hand. Counting to three, the pair threw the bombs back, aiming at the cars pursuing – and still shooting – at them. Bossuet and Enjolras then drove even faster, Marius and Cosette right in front of them, just as the vehicles behind them were blown up in a great, loud explosion that sent hot air burning their faces and briefly messing with the balance of their cars still running on the road.

            They rode for another fifteen minutes at full speed before stopping by the roadside to check on themselves and on the cars, just in case any vampire had managed to plant a tracking device on it.

            The cars were clear.

            Besides Éponine, no one had been potentially hurt. Enjolras had grazes all over his arms and torso from being almost shot plenty of dangerous times, while Feuilly had a small cut on his forehead and Bahorel had dark purple marks all over his body. They had managed to gather everything Joly had put on that little list, thankfully, and all the equipment  had remained unharmed during their harsh escape. ‘But at what cost’, thought Bahorel, mournfully.

            Enjolras approached him, seeming pensive, and nodded towards the car, where Éponine was still sitting in.

            “How is she?”

            “How do you think, Enjolras? Her brother and Jehan got caught and she was shot in the fucking leg. She isn’t even speaking”.

            Closing his lips in a thin line, Enjolras opened the car door and kneeled in front of Éponine, who was staring ahead of her, eyes glazed by pain and loss.

            “’Ponine?” he called.

            She didn’t look at him.

            “Look, ‘Ponine. I need you to trust me okay? I will bring Gavroche back. He’ll be just fine. I’ll bring him back”, Enjolras said, with the most soothing voice he could manage. “We’ll bring him and Jehan back and everything will be fine. You have my word”.

            Still silence.

            Just as Enjolras got up and was about to close the door, Éponine turned her head towards him, forehead covered in sweat.

            “How on Earth do you plan on bringing them back?” she asked, voice merely a whisper.

            “I don’t know yet but I will find a way, I can promise you that”.

            “I am tired of empty promises”, she whispered, leaning her head back on the seat and closing her eyes trying to hide her grief.

-

            As soon as the group arrived, Grantaire knew something was wrong.

            It was not for the blood smeared across Feuilly’s face, or the miasma of apprehension the amis had brought inside with them. It wasn’t even from the way Bahorel came inside carrying an unconscious Éponine.

            It was for the two people missing.

            “Where’s Gavroche?” he asked at the same time Courfeyrac asked “Where’s Jehan?”

            It was Enjolras who delivered the news, as usual.

            The two of them were caught as they were trying to escape the hospital, now infested with vampires. They couldn’t go back for them and they were last seen being drugged and taken away by BL’s minions. Enjolras wanted to go on another mission to retrieve them as soon as possible. Grantaire thought he had never felt more angry in his life.

            He wanted to walk over to Enjolras and yell everything he was thinking at the man's face. Can’t you see what you’re doing? Don’t you see what you’ve done? This revolution isn’t a party, our lives aren’t a joke. Jehan and Gavroche might very well be dead because of your irresponsibility and you’re willing to risk more lives to mend your mistakes. You are a naïve child and you will get us all killed. You will get yourself killed and I cannot handle to lose you. Why can’t you just see?

            Instead, Grantaire glared at the man from his usual corner. The look of deep regret on the blond's eyes was already enough to have Grantaire shivering with sympathy for the man and feeling bad for wishing to yell at him. He went over to Joly's medical room only to find the doctor fussing over a still unconscious Éponine, Bahorel watching over his shoulder. Soon after, Courfeyrac came in, aided by no one else than Enjolras himself, who looked to be grazed all over, clothes torn and ripped apart graciously.

            He realized he couldn’t even hate Enjolras properly. That made him hate himself even more.

            After a few minutes Combeferre came wandering inside the room, a bright, blindness indulging smile painted across his face. He must have been told only the good part of their return, only the part about having the equipment that could save Céline. No one must have had the courage of telling him the bad news. His smile died as soon as he saw Éponine being treated by Joly and everyone's mournful faces. From his spot on the corner of the room, Grantaire spared Enjolras a glance. The man looked back at him, sorrow and unspoken apologies evident in his blue stormy eyes. Grantaire didn't find it in himself to look away.

            They had saved Combeferre's little sister, after all.

            But at what cost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one kind of sucks, is kind of confused, and is kind of long, so apologies in advance. I'll probably rewrite some things asap. Kudos, maybe?


	7. Save Yourself, I'll Hold Them Back

_I'm the only friend that makes you cry_  
_You're a heart attack in black hair dye_  
_So just save yourself and I'll hold them back tonight_  
  
_Are y'all ready where you are at?_  
_If you save yourself tonight_  
_(Cause we're coming for you)_  
_Can you save yourself tonight?_

 

The wind was blowing on his face and sending his dark curls back through the car window.

He knew he probably shouldn't have agreed to this plan. It was doomed to fail. It was doomed to kill them all.

Well, they were all doomed to die anyway.

Discretly, he tried to glance at Enjolras through his peripheral vision from where he was shrunken on the passanger sit. He only managed to spot a mess of gold hair and the red of the man's jacket, and what he thought to be a scowl on his face. He turned his eyes back to the window. The world outside was rushing by as the car went on through the road, dead trees and abandoned broken vehicles fusing in a blurry mess. Grantaire checked his belt for the hundreth time that day, feeling for both his guns, ammo and his knife. Making sure they were still there. Making sure he wouldn't die.

"How long until we get there?" Bahorel asked from the backseat.

"About half an hour", Enjolras responded, eyes glued on the road ahead of him as he drove.

"How can we be sure they'll be there again?" the man continued.

Enjolras sighed.

"We can't", he answered after a few seconds of silence. "But it's our best shot".

-

Three days before

"You know we'll be walking straight into a trap don't you", Grantaire said, not even bothering to announce his presence as he leant on Enjolras' bedroom doorstep. The blond man was sitting cross legged on his bed, a big map on his lap, the light cast by a lit candle beside him the only source of ilumination of the room. The yellowish tone of the fire made his golden hair shine like it was actually made of gold, and as he raised his head to look at Grantaire, the blue of his eyes seemed dark with righteous anger.

"We're speaking now?" Enjolras asked, voice barely a whisper, careful not to wake his roomates up.

"Circumstances", Grantaire muttered quietly, looking anywhere but at Enjolras now.

"This is going to happen, whether you approve it or not, Grantaire. You're not obliged to go".

"I have to, though, don't I, Enjolras? Or do you think I'll just leave Jehan and Gavroche on their own there? Being tortured, or experimented on, or whatever BL's sick minds come up with?"

He lowered his voice as he saw Combeferre stirr in his sleep. It was the first good night of sleep the man had gotten since they found out what was wrong with Céline, and as much as he'd insisted to stay on her room with her throught the night, Joly had threatened him enough to send him to his own bed. Grantaire would only feel worse about himself if he woke him up now. Looking back at Enjolras, he noticed the man was thinking the same thing. Grantaire made as if to leave the room, but caught Enjolras putting his map aside and blowing the candle, getting on his feet.

Grantaire stared in confusion just to see the blonde raise his hand as if to ask him to wait. Enjolras started fiddling his feet around the bed, looking for his slippers, and then proceeded to follow Grantaire out of the room, closing the door as quietly as possible behind him.

"We can't discuss this in the corridor", Enjolras whispered. "There are people sleeping in the living room, we shouldn't wake them up".

"Yeah, that's why I'm confused as to why you decided to discuss this right now", Grantaire answered.

It was dark as hell, but Grantaire was pretty sure he saw Enjolras rolling his eyes.

"Follow me", he said, and just as that he rushed by Grantaire, towards the front door. The raven had only enough time to blink once or twice in confusion, before he followed Enjolras. They both exited the apartment as quietly as possible, Grantaire nodding at Bossuet, who was on guard by the window.

Grantaire looked around in confusion when Enjolras was nowhere to be seen as he closed the door behind him. Feeling his heart skip a beat inside his chest, he reached slowly for his faser tugged safely behind his trousers.

"Enjolras?" he asked, only half-whispering.

He leaned on one foot as he tried to see through the darkness that led downstairs. There was no one there.

"Enjolras", he asked again, sure that his loud, erratic heartbeats would wake every single ami in the apartment. Thousands of images of possible cenarios were rushing inside his head, Enjolras kidnapped, Enjolras struggling against a vampire that managed to sneak inside the building, Enjolras lying dead at the bottom of the stairs. He was about to go back into the apartment to ask Bossuet for backup when he heard footsteps rushing on the stairs above him. He turned on his tracks, gun aiming for a target and finger on the trigger, just to see a startled, yet slightly annoyed Enjolras looking at him in confusion.

"What's taking you so long? I told you to follow me", he said, no longer whispering. The sound of his voice sent shivers down Grantaire's spine, and he gave himself a brief moment to enjoy the feeling before sighing in exasperation and shoving his gun back into his trousers.

"How the fuck was I supposed to follow if I didn't see where you were going?" he asked, climbing the stairs alongside Enjolras, who had waited for him this time.

"I thought you were keeping up", the blond explained in a monotone.

"Look back and check, next time", Grantaire answered half-heartedly.

"Alright", Enjolras muttered. An awkward silence followed.

"So, where are you taking me, o mighty Apollo?" Grantaire dared to ask after seconds of silence that felt like an eternity. They were still climbing the stairs, and Grantaire knew they were probably headed to the rooftop, but he felt a strong urge to say something if only to break the tense silence between them. He spent days without talking to Enjolras, and while he was still too embarassed to go back to normal conversation, his brain was aware that staying silent would only make things more awkward.

"The rooftop", Enjolras said casually, as if he brought people to the rooftop all the time. The thought made Grantaire blush, and he thanked the darkness that engulfed them for hiding the redness of his face from the blond man. "If we're going to talk about this, we might as well do it somewhere we won't wake the others up".

"You mean somewhere they won't hear us shouting at each other".

Enjolras merely sighed.

"Yes, that too".

"Fine, fair enough", Grantaire stated.

They reached the rooftop, and Grantaire stood back so Enjolras could put as much distance between them as he deemed necessary. Turns out Enjolras remained very close to him.

"So. Speak your mind", Enjolras said, staring deep into Grantaire's eyes. Grantaire only managed to stare back for a milisecond before the intensity of the gaze sent another shiver down his spine. He proceeded to stare at the top of Enjolras' head, hoping the man wouldn't notice.

"I think you already know they will lure us into a trap, so I don't have to tell you that again, do I", he answered, pretending not to shake.

"I am aware. But we cannot let Prouvaire and Gavroche to their mercy, you said it yourself, they could be in serious trouble in there. Being experimented on, or tortured, or who knows what else".

"So your plan is to break into their facility with only guns for hands, take them out and shoot everything that gets in your way?" Grantaire mocked.

"No. I have a much more elaborate plan".

"Enlighten me, then".

Enjolras seemed to tense at that, eyes fluttering around and never stopping at Grantaire for more then a brief moment.

The truth hit Grantaire.

"You don't trust me", he stated, voice empty.

"Don't be stupid, if I didn't trust you I wouldn't let you hang around. It's not that".

"What is it then?" he scoffed.

Enjolras gazed at the purple sky, as if asking some possible deity to give him strength.

"Grantaire, if we're going to talk about this, I'll need you to listen. Actually listen and let me speak instead of interrupting me or storming out and hiding in your room".

His first instinct was to give a sarcastic answer, but he managed to keep quiet and nod.

"Alright", Enjolras said, and took a deep breath as if bracing himself to say what he needed to. "I don't want you to go with us on this mission".

Grantaire opened his mouth to speak but before he could utter the words, Enjolras hand was in his shoulder and the blonde had just said "no, please, listen", and Grantaire's brain short circuited,

if not for the touch, then for the fact that Enjolras had just said the word 'please' to him. He felt silent, mouth shutting close stubbornly.

"Just listen to me. Let me speak first, then you can answer. I don't want you to go because you're too involved, not only with Jehan and Gavroche but also with me. I know you probably regret the words you told me that night, and if you want to we can put this whole thing behind us and pretend it never happened, but it doesn't change the nature of what you told me and it doesn't change the nature of your feelings. We have enough aid already and I don't want you to put your life at risk for a mission you're only attending because of me, okay? I don't want you to get hurt Grantaire, speacially not for a cause you don't even believe in. So you're not going. We'll break in, we'll rescue them, and we'll get out, and we'll be just fine. Plus, you should stay here with Éponine, her leg's still bad and she still mourns her brother".

Grantaire gaped at him like a fish.

"You can speak now", Enjolras told him, finally staring back.

He had not expected the slap.

"You fucking bastard! What the fuck? What the fuck do you take me for?" Grantaire yelled.

"W-what?" Enjolras asked, eyes wide open, fingers hovering above his cheek, hot flesh already starting to redden.

"You think you're the fucking center of the world, don't you Enjolras. You think I want to go to this mission so I can be around you? Poor little Grantaire that doesn't get enough attention from his unrequited love, so he'll do anything to be around the blonde marble statue, no matter how dangerous it is? For fuck's sake, has it even occured to you that maybe, just maybe, I want to go because Jehan is my friend and Gavroche is like a fucking brother to me? And because I don't want them to die? Has it? Or were you too busy gazing at your own navel?"

Grantaire was breathing hard now, and for some reason his eyes felt wet. He closed them tight, turning his back at Enjolras. He wouldn't let the man see him crying.

"Grantaire... I...", the blonde started.

"No, Enjolras. I don't care what self centered reason you're going to present to stop me from going, I'll not let my friends rotten inside some godforsaken factory because you're too damn oblivious to see what's right in front of your eyes".

"Then help me see it", Enjolras interrupted, breathless, and it sounded more like a plea than anything else. Enjolras reached for him but stopped himself before he could touch the man, hand lingering in the air for a few hesitant seconds before he lowered it. "I tried, Grantaire, I tried seeing but I can't. I spent nights fidgeting in my bed because I couldn't see, I can't. I'm able to understand and talk for hours about revolutions and the rights of men, but when it comes to you I'm absolutly speechless apart from the knowledge that you're the most complex person I have ever met in my entire life".

Grantaire closed his eyes harder, refusing to turn towards Enjolras or to see anything but the darkness his eyelids provided.

They were quiet for a long time, only the sound of their breaths echoing in the purple darkness of the night.

"Do you love me?" Enjolras asked after what felt like an eternity, his voice low and rough as if he'd been trying not to cry just like Grantaire, but the raven knew that was impossible. Enjolras didn't cry.

"Yes", Grantaire answered immediately with no trace of hesitation in his voice. Behind him, he could hear Enjolras exhale sharply, as if he'd been holding his breath.

"I'm sorry", Enjolras murmured, and Grantaire finally, finally dared to look back at him. He was no fool. He knew his eyes were damp and red, that he probably looked like a mess, more wrecked than he felt. Inside his ribcage, something dark and cold seemed to swollen, eating it's way into his heart and making him ache. His fingers and stomach went cold and he could feel himself shaking, something in his belly urging to make its way out through his throat. Were it words or puke, he couldn't make out, but he kept his lips closed tight. Cold sweat was running down the skin of his back, shirt already gluing itself to the damp body. A stabbing pain hit him in synchrony with his heartbeats, fast and strong and so, so painful. He couldn't be sure if his vision was swimming because it was too dark, but he'd bet it was. He felt a single tear run down his cheek and wiped it away, making it look like he was brushing his wide curls back and praying Enjolras hadn't noticed. He was sure this was what dying felt like.

He always knew he would never have a chance with Enjolras. But to have his knowledge concretized by the man's words hurt more than anything he had ever experienced.

Grantaire turned on his heels and headed to the stairs, wanting to go back to the apartment and bury himself in as many bottles of alcohol as he could.

"Grantaire, no, wait!" Enjolras said, but he didn't stop.

He hadn't realized how cold he was until Enjolras' warm hand touched his wrist, holding him on place. It was like a whole sun had exploded on the place where their skin touched.

"Just... Just wait. Let me finish", Enjolras ordered. It didn't sound like a request.

Grantaire kept silent and still, like the marble statue he always mocked Enjolras for being.

"I didn't mean it like that. I said I'm sorry because I really am, R, I'm sorry for not realizing it before. I didn't notice until you shoved the reality on my face, and after you told me you loved me it all became so clear. I know I'm stoic, and appear to be senseless to anything other than the cause, but you don't see it that way. You see me for who I am. You see things for what they are, not for what they could be, not like I do. And I think that's what fascinated me the most about you, your ability to see things. You understand me, Grantaire, in a way not even Combeferre could. And for that I'm grateful. And I'm sorry for all these years I made you ache because of my oblivion, all those harsh words I sent your way because I didn't know better".

"See, that's the problem", Grantaire interrupted him. "I didn't want you to know better. I never wanted you to treat me any differently because of the way I felt about you. That's why I never told you". He did his best to keep the trembling off his voice, but he knew it still sounded odd. Restrained, somehow.

"But I'm glad you told me!" Enjolras exclaimed, and Grantaire knew the blond wanted him to turn around and face him but he didn't have it in his heart. "I'm so glad. I would probably never realize it if you hadn't. And I wouldn't be able to realize my feelings for you, too".

Grantaire's stomach dropped and the urge to vomit increased. He curled his fingers into a fist and Enjolras probably felt that, because his grip on Grantaire's wrist loosened.

"Look, Enjolras", he started, forcing the words out. "This is exactly what I was trying to avoid. I don't want, nor need, your pity. I never asked for it and I can't handle it. If you want to be friends, fine, but don't trick yourself into thinking you feel anything for me when you don't".

Enjolras' hand left his arm and the coldness hit him like a truck. He mustered the necessary courage to turn back and look at Enjolras, only to meet the man's offended gaze.

"Don't assume you know anything about the nature of my feelings", the blonde said through gritted teeth.

"I should say the same to you".

"I'm aware I seem emotionless, but I guarantee I'm not. Not towards you".

Grantaire scoffed.

"Do you not believe me?"

"Why should I, Enjolras? You've shown me nothing but disdain and annoyance ever since we met, and now you get to know how I feel about you, you decide you like me back. Even you must admit it sounds more like pity than anything else".

Enjolras stared at him, tight lipped.

"Look, I'm sorry, about all this alright? I should have never talked to you about that anyway, I was drunk and stressed out and it was like, the worst moment ever to go on that topic. I'm sorry. Let's just forget that that night and this night ever happened, and go back to our miserable revolutionary lives ok? You can pretend I never told you anything. Just don't try to keep me from helping to rescue my friends, because that's not gonna happen", Grantaire said, turning around again.

"I don't want you to get hurt", Enjolras said, voice small.

"That's a bit too late, Apollo. Life has already fucked me over. And I don't want Jehan and Gavroche getting hurt, either. So you can't keep me from going".

"Grantaire".

"What, Enjolras?" he sighed, stopping. Enjolras hadn't followed him, he could tell.

"Please. Let's not end our conversation like this. I really like you, and I wish we could sort things out".

Grantaire laughed, and Enjolras finally moved, walking until he was facing Grantaire. They were close now. So close. Enjolras placed both his hands on Grantaire's shoulders, and despite the fact they could see each other's breathings, Grantaire had never felt so warm in his entire life.

"What do you want me to say, Apollo?" Grantaire all but chocked.

"Tell me you don't hate me".

Grantaire laughed again, louder this time.

"I could never hate you. Not even if I tried. Not even in a million years".

Enjolras lowered his head, as if he was ashamed.

"How can you love me so much?"

"Really, Enjolras? I thought we were forgetting about that".

"I don't want to forget it. I like you. I like you back. I have for a long time, I just... It took me way too long to realize it".

"You can't be serious", Grantaire answered, feeling numb.

"I am wild", Enjolras answered, smiling. Grantaire would kill a thousand men if he could only have Enjolras smiling like that at him again.

"Since when?" Grantaire asked, closing his eyes at Enjolras' hand, which was now cupping his face.

"Since you were shot at that factory and I thought I'd lost you forever".

"I'm not going anywhere, Apollo", he leaned into the touch.

"I'm sorry. For all the times I've hurt you. For all the times I was too blind to see".

"Don't be. I never gave any good hints either, mocking you for your ideals and all".

"Nobody can unnerve me like you do, R".

"Whoa, you really know how to make a girl feel special".

"You are special to me".

"Christ, what the fuck", Grantaire exhaled sharply, opening his eyes to stare back at Enjolras. His eyes were shining purple, reflecting the color of the sky, his golden locks casting an aurea around him that made him look more godlike than ever. "You don't even realize what you do to me, do you".

"Why don't you tell me?"

"You make the world still worth fighting for, even if it's only to give it to you".

Enjolras leaned in, their lips crashing together in a messy first kiss.

Grantaire wasted no time in being surprised, pushing his nervouness aside and shoving his hand on Enjolras' hair, his soft golden locks entangling on Grantaire's scarred fingers. He used his other hand to pull the man closer by his waist, crotches rubbing together as they kissed. Enjolras' hand also found it's way to Grantaire's curls, tugging at it lightly and indulging a moan from Grantaire's throat. Enjolras licked at Grantaire's lower lip before biting at it hard, sending a shiver that found it's way to Grantaire's cock. Grantaire responded by licking Enjolras' lip back and tugging at his hair, but he didn't moan until Grantaire's tongue was inside his mouth, exploring, tasting, trying to seize the moment as much as he could.

They parted after a few minutes, both breathing hard, and Grantaire could feel a stupid grin already growing on his face at the impossibility of the situation. He was dreaming, that was the only explanation.

"What's wrong?" Enjolras asked.

"Absolutely nothing", Grantaire anwered, grinning at Enjolras, who smiled back.

"Everything's sorted, then?"

"Yeah, we're good. I'm still going to help you on the mission, though".

"You're incorrigible".

"So are you".

"Fine, point taken. We should go back to the apartment, though. People will be up soon and I don't want anyone wondering where we're at".

"Yeah, sure, I wouldn't want to have to explain to everyone that I was snogging my boyfriend on the rooftop either", Grantaire commented.

Enjolras interwined his fingers with Grantaire's and kissed him briefly on the lips.

"It's not that. I just don't want everyone wondering if something happened to us. Or spreading the word that we were... having intercourse".

"Hey! I'm a great intercourser!" Grantaire protested, mock-hurt.

"That's not even a word, Grantaire", Enjolras smiled, as they went down the stairs.

"Prove that it isn't".

"We haven't got any dictionaries and you know it".

"Sounds like an excuse someone who doesn't want to admit they're wrong would come up with".

"I'm gonna kiss you again if it's what it takes to shut you up".

"I guess I'll never stop talking then".

-

 

"So, what's your plan, Apollo?" Grantaire asked as he barged into the room, late for the meeting as usual. Everyone was already there except for Éponine, who was asleep at the medical room.

"As we were discussing", Enjolras continued enphatically, but his tone lacked the usual sharpness directed only towards Grantaire. "Feuilly has already hacked their systems two days ago and will shut down their body sensors today. This will allow us to enter the facility unnoticed, should we keep our discretion, and reach Jehan and Gavroche. They're in the twelfth floor, but there are no cameras inside the rooms so we don't know in which room they'll be. This will not be a problem, though, the more people we set free, the easier it will be to get out unharmed. This is why we'll be taking a lot of guns and ammo with us, so we can give them to the prisoners and help them escape".

"You think a bunch of high people will be able to guarantee our triumphal scape? Do we even know if they're able to hold a gun?" Grantaire interrupted.

"There are over fifty rooms in the twelfth floor, if there's only one prisoner in each room, that makes fifty more allies. I'm sure they want to leave just as much as we want to free them, so not knowing how to use a gun will not be a problem during a life threatening situation", Feuilly provided.

"Also, the main focus is bringing Jehan and Gavroche back", Courfeyrac stated. Joly had discharged him one day before, saying he was cured and allowing him to officialy partitipate in meetings again.

"Do we even know they're in that building for sure?"

"No", Joly sighed. "But it's the main place where they keep their prisoners, so it's very likely they are in there".

"But the main issue isn't getting in. It's getting out. We'll easily sneak in even if we're expected, which we are. With the body sensors off, it'll be very hard for them to spot us, we just need to keep ourselves out from the lightspots and not make any noise", Enjolras continued.

"We'll just walk through the front gate and expect them not to notice us because we're wearing black?" Grantaire refuted.

"No. We'll entrer through the back gate, which will be less guarded but guarded all the same. Which is why we need you, R".

"Uh... ok? What for?" Grantaire asked, aprehensive.

"Feuilly and Bahorel have been checking their cameras for the last two days and managed to discover a routine. The back gate is only guarded by five vampires from 1 AM to 4 AM. Five vampires are very easy to take down, but if we shoot our guns it will draw attention. So the best course of action would be a close approach. Two of them stay outside the gate, while the other three stay inside".

"What do you need me to do, Apollo?" Grantaire asked, already fearing the answer.

"I need you to slit their throats".

Grantaire threw his hands at the air.

"Of course you do".

"You're the best of us with knives, Grantaire. You know that. You told me you wanted to go and help, this is the best way you can do this".

"Fine, Apollo. I'll do your dirty job for you".

Enjolras looked at him worriedly, but said nothing else.

"So after Grantaire has handled the five guards, we go in. There will be three more by the entrance door, and they'll probably run in to sound the alarms as soon as they see Grantaire attacking the front vampires, which is why Bahorel will barge through the gates and incapacitate them".

"I wanna kill them", Bahorel protested.

"Incapacitate!" Enjolras repeated. "We'll need their clothes and their masks intact if we want this to work. Combeferre, Courfeyrac and I will wear the vampire clothes and bring Feuilly, Bossuet

and Bahorel in, if anyone tries to stop us we'll say they're errants we've found near the station and we're taking them to the twelfth floor to arrest them".

Joly intertwined his fingers with Bossuet, chewing on his lower lip as he always did when he was nervous.

"What about the rest of us?" Grantaire questioned.

"You will remain outside and wait. We'll split up inside, Barohel will go to the power box with Courfeyrac, which is on the first floor, and Feuilly will go to the control room with Combeferre, in the second. I'll keep going with Bossuet up to the twelfth. Feuilly will manage to open all the doors in the building and Bahorel will turn off the power box immediately after that. This way their spotlights will be off and they'll probably go to the power box to see what happened, leaving the rest of you a window of opportunity".

"Ok, I see your point, but we're being expected there, Enjolras", R complained. "The moment all the lights go off, they'll send vampires to the entrances to block anyone from coming in".

"That's why we're bringing as many people as we can", Enjolras debated. "We can easily outnumber the vampires. Also, you'll only be needed to help us out, since me and Bossuet will be already on the twelfth leading people away".

"I'd think the 12th floor would be the best guarded, since it contains all the state enemies and all", Grantaire muttered.

"Yes it is, which is why I you'll be needed to help us out, aren't you listening?" Enjolras asked, sounding annoyed.

Grantaire rubbed his face, sighing.

"As I told you, you don't need to go", Enjolras stated half-heartedly, not looking at Grantaire.

"I'll go, but I have a condition", Grantaire said. Enjolras eyed him aprehensively. "I have to be the one to go inside with you, not Bossuet".

"Grantaire..."

"Please, Enjolras. I won't leave you alone in there".

Enjolras scowled, seeming to be angry, and glared at Grantaire for several seconds before turning to Bossuet.

"Are you okay with Grantaire going on your place?"

Bossuet was at a loss for words.

"Uh, sure, I mean, if you think it's better for the plan. I have no objections", he shrugged. Somehow, Joly looked relieved.

"Anyone who wants to join us in this will be welcome to do so. Give your name to Joly until tomorrow night and we will count you in. Though this is a rescue mission, and a very dangerous one, we do not expect to lose any lives so be careful. Thank you for your attention", Enjolras said, and just like that, he got up from his sit and went straight to his room, locking the door and not saying another word. Grantaire pretended he didn't notice his friends staring at him questioningly as he made his way to the freezer and fished out a bottle of beer.

-

Grantaire thought he'd be more nervous as he approached the gate, but his heart was beating steadily inside his chest and his hands were very still as he pulled out the knives from his pocket.

He tried to be as quiet as possible as he hid behind a dead tree near the gate, his last source of cover before he went clear on an open field. He'd have to be very fast if he didn't want to spoil Enjolras' game.

Taking in three deep breaths, he closed his eyes, bit his lip, thinked of Enjolras' smiling at him on the rooftop, and went for it.

Grantaire was quick on his feet, no one could deny that. The first vampire didn't even see him until the raven's blade had already slit his throat open, and the second only noticed him as he heard the faint thump as his comrade fell to the floor, bleeding. Even then, it was to late, for Grantaire's knife embbed itself on the flesh of his neck and the man pulled it out, tearing a deep gash that squished and squirted blood in a rapid pace. Grantaire held the vampire before he could fall down on the floor and call the attention of others inside. He took both their guns and shoved it down his pants, looking back and spotting Bahorel approaching him stealthily. They nodded at each other before Grantaire crossed the gate.

The first vampire he killed inside was clueless, but the other two were not. Grantaire only had time to stab the second on the shoulder to keep him from reaching to his gun when the third one cocked his, pointing at his head. By this point the other three vampires had already seen him, and were probably rushing inside.

He was frozen at the spot, trying to figure out a way to escape with his life, when the pressure of the barrel against his temple disappeared, followed by a hard thumping sound of bones colliding. He knew Bahorel had taken the vampire down for him and, without thinking twice, Grantaire pulled his knife from the vampire's shoulder, covering his mouth to muffle the scream, and slit the creature's throat.

When he looked at the side, Bahorel was already gone, and a limp vampire body twiched on the ground, half-dead. Grantaire did what he had to.

As he was taking their guns, Enjolras bursted in with Combeferre, Courfeyrac and Feuilly.

"You okay?" Enjolras asked, putting a cautious hand on Grantaire's shoulder. He nodded.

"Let's go find Bahorel".

-

 

Vampire clothes smelt very badly.

"Please promise me you'll take twenty showers to take that stink out of you as soon as we get back", Grantaire whispered to Enjolras as they entered the facility.

"Honestly, you don't have to ask. I'm nearly suffocating inside this mask", the blonde answered.

"Don't they shower or something? Jeez", complained Courfeyrac.

"Enough with the small talk, let's be quiet", Combeferre advised.

They arrived at the center of the first floor untouched. Only as they approached the stairs a couple of S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/Ws rushed by, stopping as they saw Grantaire, Feuilly and Bahorel.

"What's happening?" one of them asked.

Combeferre was the one to answer.

"We caught these nearing the building. We're taking them to the cells".

One of the vampires tilted it's head, as if confused.

"I thought Mr. T didn't want anymore of them around here".

Grantaire's heart skipped a beat and he made as if to reach to his knife. Enjolras gripped his wrist tighter.

"These are the last ones", Courfeyrac answered.

"But we have orders to kill all the new prisoners, instead of taking them to the cells. They're already full", the vampire stated.

"We received new orders", Combeferre replied.

"When?"

"Now". And then Combeferre and Courfeyrac both raised their phasers at the same time, shooting at the vampires. They went down without a fight.

"Holy shit, what do we do now?" Feuilly asked.

"The mission goes as we planned it. Feuilly, go with Combeferre to the control room and start working on the doors. Bahorel and Courf, go to the power and wait until all doors open to turn it off. Me and Grantaire will go upstairs as if nothing is happening", Enjolras explained.

"If they don't want anymore prisoners, wouldn't it be better if we dressed as vampires either?", Grantaire suggested. "In case we get stopped again".

"Yeah, that's a good idea", Combeferre replied. "Grantaire and Feuilly, take these ones' clothes and try to hide the gunshot marks the best you can".

"Oi, what about me?" Bahorel asked.

"You're too big to fit in the clothes, man", Courfeyrac explained.

"Fine, it's not like I wanted to wear this shit smelling outfit anyway".

Grantaire and Feuilly changed into the vampires' clothes quietly. Enjolras politely turned his back as the raven removed his trousers, thanking the mask he was wearing for covering his blush. As they finnished taking their guns and hiding their clothes inside the heavy bag Enjolras was carrying (with the guns for the prisoners), they were good to go.

"Alright, good luck everyone. See you in a few minutes", Combeferre saluted, and then both pairs were gone.

"Looks like we're on our own, Apollo", Grantaire smiled as they went up the stairs.

-

They had no trouble walking around until they got to the eleventh floor. Until there, they just nodded at the vampires that passed by them, remaining silent and alert. But as they got to the stairs leading to the eleventh, a vampire blocked the way.

"Badge", he said, sticking out his hand with the palm raised upwards.

There were too many vampires walking around nearby for it to be safe to shoot at the guard. Enjolras' brain started to work quickly, looking for a solution, and he could sense Grantaire doing the same close beside him.

"Badge", the vampire repeated, growing impatient. His left arm discretely reached for the gun in his holster.

"We-", Grantaire started, only to be interrupted by a loud noise of several doors opening at the same time. The guard, distracted by the same noise, looked around in confusion, and Grantaire took the oportunity to punch him in the face. Taking the gun from his holster while the man still struggled to get up, the raven shot him twice on the chest and he fell back on the stairs.

The corridor of the eleventh floor succumbed to chaos as no vampire knew why all the doors were open. Several had rushed upstairs, not sparing a second glance at the dead guard blocking half of the way, their ultimate order being to keep an eye at the prisoners at all costs and stopping any eventual break out.

"Let's blend in", Enjolras muttered to Grantaire, and they rushed upstairs with other vampires that didn't even realize they were the enemies.

But what they found at the 12th wasn't anything like they expected.

Every single door was open, but there was no one rushing out of it, or trying to run away. Enjolras frowned beneath the mask he was wearing. He looked at Grantaire and the man shrugged, knowing Enjolras wouldn't be able to see any of his facial reactions. There was a vampire guarding each door on both left and right corridors. It would look odd if the both of them went upstairs and didn't guard a door either, so they entered the left corridor. There was only one door left to guard there.

"There is another unguarded door on the right corridor", a vampire told them.

"Ok", Grantaire said, and sparing a last look at Enjolras, turned on his heels and made his way to the extreme opposite door on that floor. They were at least 100 feet away from each other now. This wasn't good.

He settled himself in front of the empty open door, trying very hard not to look inside it.

He failed.

There was no way he could catch a glimpse inside the room with the mask on, so he had to turn his entire body around to face it. Of course the motion didn't go unnoticed, and the vampire beside him stared at him questionly as he sneaked a peek on the room.

"Hey, what are you doing?" the vampire asked.

He could see a cirurgical bed in the middle of the room, a extremely thin woman tied on it, apparently asleep, and a metal desk beside it, seringes and little bottles - he knew those bottles very well - scattered on it.

"I... Uh, I thought I felt something on my back. Can you check for me?" Grantaire answered, turning his back to the open door again.

The vampire hesitated for a moment before checking Grantaire's back.

"Nah, you're clear", he said. Grantaire nodded in silent appreciation and remained still. The lights should be off by now. What the hell was going on with Bahorel and Courfeyrac?

He needed to make a escape plan in case things went south. Of course he wasn't planning on leaving without Jehan and Gavroche, but he wouldn't let Enjolras fulfill his wet dream of dying a martyr that night either. He needed to figure out a way of helping his friends out and surviving at the same time, and right there, at that moment, both ideas seemed to be irreconcilable.

Grantaire tried to make the math in his head. He sucked at math but right now he needed to do it. Enjolras said there was over fifty rooms on that floor. The corridors were apparently split in a half, which left about 25 rooms on his corridor. That meant he had to take down 25 vampires, and hope - only hope - that Enjolras would realize what he was doing and take down the other 25 coming at his direction. He could always enter the room and lure them in with him, try to shield himself, try to gain more time for Enjolras to figure out a more plausible solution, but that meant he'd put that woman's life at the stake, and he wouldn't be able to live with himself, if he lived. One thing was to be responsible for a vampire death, a death that happened to keep his own life and the life of his friends. Another thing was to be responsible for the life of an innocent woman, a woman that couldn't even defend herself or fight back because she was unconscious tied up to a bed.

If he did that, he wouldn't enter a room. He'd have to stay at the corridor, and hope none of the prisoners got caught in the cross fire.

He was just thinking about how difficult it would be to free all the prisoners, since they were all tied, when the lights went out and they were all swallowed by the darkness.

Grantaire had no time to think.

He tapped the confused vampire beside him on the shoulder and pulled the trigger of his gun.

-

 

Enjolras was tense.

They weren't supposed to be split on the 12th floor, they were supposed to stick together, get out of there together.

"What do you have on that bag?" the vampire beside him asked, suspicious. Enjolras was surprised it took him so long to notice the bag hanging from his shoulder.

"Extra guns and ammo in case something goes wrong", he explained. The vampire still looked suspicious. Then Enjolras remembered what he had heard on the first floor. "Mr. T's orders". The vampire relaxed at that and nodded. going back to his position.

As Enjolras first arrived at the door, he managed to catch a glimpse inside it. His heart nearly stopped when he saw it was Jehan in the room, tied to a bed and unconscious. And then Grantaire was told to go away, and he went, missing the look Enjolras sent him. Fuck.

He needed a plan to get himself and Grantaire out of there in case everything went wrong, but no cenario ended up without either him, Grantaire or all of them dead. He decided to stay low and act as the events developed.

He only hoped Grantaire wouldn't do anything absolutely stupid and ruin their cover.

He was starting to worry about Bahorel and Courfeyrac - why were the lights still on? - when he heard a commotion on the stairs that led to their floor. He had no time to check on it, though, because as soon as all the vampires started to fidget trying to see what was wrong on the stairs, all the lights went out, and no longer after gunshots echoed across the hall.

They came from Grantaire's direction.

Fuck.

What should Enjolras do? He knew of Grantaire's ability with a gun, with two guns, with knives. Jehan, on the other hand, was stuck in a bed and leaving now to help Graintaire would seal the poet's fate.

Enjolras decided Grantaire would be fine for a few seconds while he helped Jehan.

No vampire paid attention to him as he entered the room, all of them too preoccupied on the gunshots across the floor. Enjolras rushed in, wasting no time in cutting Jehan's binders off, and slapping him lightly on the face to wake the man up. The poet stirred lightly and his eyes fluttered open, pupils dilated, looking around in confusion before focusing on Enjolras.

"Jehan, we have to go now, can you walk?" Enjolras rushed.

"... Enjolras?" he asked, frowning.

"Yes, it's me", Enjolras said, removing the mask he forgot he was wearing. "It's me, we came for you. But we need to go now, can you walk?"

"I... I think I can... Oh no, oh no Enjolras, it's a trap, they're going to kill us , it's a trap!" Jehan yelled, shoving Enjolras away as if to make him leave the room. "You need to go and get the others, it's a trap!"

"Jehan, lower your voice!" Enjolras said, pulling a gun from the bag and shoving it on Jehan's trembling hands. "I know it's a trap but we've outsmarted them ok? But we need to leave now, c'mon, if you can't walk pass your arm around my shoulder, I'll help you out of here".

"Enjolras, oh no...", Jehan was still muttering, over and over, his face pale and lips cracked. His head lowered as he struggled to keep awake and walking, red dirty hair falling across his face and covering it up, Enjolras basically dragging him across the room.

The blonde leader stopped on his tracks as he heard a familiar voice outside the room say "hey, where's that guy with the gun bag?"

"Shit", Enjolras muttered as he dragged Jehan to the corner of the room, lowering him on the ground and giving him the bag with the guns and ammo. "Jehan, are you conscious?"

"Yeah... I'm... I'm ok, I just need a few minutes", he said, not looking at Enjolras.

"I need you with me, Jehan. There are a lot of vampires outside this room, and a lot of prisoners on this floor that need our help, including Gavroche. I need you to do something for me. You'll go around and set the prisoners free, give them a gun and move on to the next. I'll cover you. I'll be with you the whole time ok? Don't worry. Can you do this for me?"

"Yeah... I guess I can".

"Fine. I'll clear the hallway for us, alright? Stay here".

Enjolras got up from the floor, heading to the door, gun in hand. He carefully looked outside, seeing a pandemonium taking place. He could see Grantaire on the other side of the corridor, fighting three vampires at the same time, a trail of bodies lying on the ground around him. There were only ten more vampires on the floor, strangely the stairs were clear and no one else was coming up. The blonde took a shot at a vampire who was getting dangerously close to shooting Grantaire, and the cynic winked at him from where he was still fighting. Enjolras went back to the room, Jehan already up on his feet and grabbing the bag close to his chest.

"Ok, we're clear, let's go!" Enjolras urged him.

Jehan rushed to the room directly across him and came back no more than ten seconds later, nodding at the blonde. They kept this pace, Enjolras helping Grantaire from afar and killing any vampire that approached them, while Jehan freed the prisoners. A mass of prisoners started to conglomerate behind him, confused, some staring dumbly at the gun on their hands and others clutching it close, afraid to let go. Only when Jehan finished freeing the last prisoner on the left corridor and Grantaire killed the last remaining vampire, Courfeyrac and Combeferre rushed through the stairs, breathless.

"Are you ok?" Enjolras asked Grantaire, approaching him for the first time since they parted corridors. The cynic grinned and nodded, hoping Enjolras didn't notice the way he was clutching at his side. It was just a graze but it still hurt like hell, and Grantaire couldn't have Apollo worrying about him right now.

"How is the situation downstairs?" Enjolras asked Combeferre, who was still struggling to catch his breath.

"It's all going to hell very quickly and I advise we leave right now before we all die", Courfeyrac answered. "Where's Jehan? Have you found-"

"Courf!" Jehan screamed from amongst the crowd of prisoners. "Courf!"

"My precious poet!" Courfeyrac yelled back, rushing towards the redheaded. "How wonderful it is to see you!" They collided more than hugged, limbs shocking against each other, and Courfeyrac raised the man from the floor in a tight grip. "I was so worried, are you ok?"

"I'm fine, but I agree we should leave right now", the poet smiled.

"There's still the right corridor, filled with people. We've got to help them before we go", Enjolras protested.

"And we haven't found Gavroche", Grantaire added.

"Ok, Courf, help Jehan and the prisoners downstairs. Meet the others and head to the cars, wait for us there".

"This whole 'wait for us in the car' shit never works out well", Courfeyrac muttered to himself.

"It will work just fine. Clear the path for us the best way you can and be safe ok? Ferre, stay with us and help", Enjolras told them.

Courfeyrac nodded at Enjolras and grabbed Jehan's hand, signing for the other prisoners to follow.

Grantaire was the first one into the corridor, rushing past the rooms and looking into them to see if he could find Gavroche. He had already passed ten rooms before stopping in his tracks, wide eyed, and rushing in.

"Gavroche!" he called.

Enjolras and Combeferre proceeded to walk to the other rooms, and in less than ten minutes, everyone was up and out of the beds, some confused, some astonished. Grantaire walked triumphant with a dazzled Gavroche sat on his shoulders, greeting Enjolras and Combeferre.

They made their way carefuly to the lower floors, Gavroche now on the ground, everyone taking careful steps. The 11th, 10th and 9th floor were completely abandoned, with no sign of life in it. The darkness of the halls made it difficult to see if there was anyone lurking in the shadows, so they went on very slowly and careful not to make any noise.

Trouble came on the eight floor.

Some vampires that hadn't been taken down started to open fire against them, and while most of the group managed to shield themselves from the laser shots, others weren't so lucky. Combeferre and Enjolras alone managed to kill the attackers, that weren't many, but the real trouble awaited on the first floor, as Grantaire had expected.

All the vampires that hadn't been killed on the spot had barricaded themselves using whichever furniture they could get their hands on. Over fifty vampires were lurking behind the poorly made barricade, guns on hand, waiting for them to walk down the stairs. From where Enjolras was, he could only see one of the exits, the back one, which was blocked by chairs and a bed. He could only assume the main entrance was blocked as well.

"What should we do? Their backups are probably on their way", Combeferre whispered.

"I need to think", Enjolras said.

"Do you have any alcohol with you?" Grantaire asked.

"Now is not the time for this, Grantaire", Enjolras scowled.

"No, I'm just saying we could try to make a molotov cocktail if you have something alcoholic in there. Set fire to their barricade and try to escape while they try not to burn to death", the cynic explained.

"That might actually work", Combeferre said.

"I don't have anything alcoholic with me, you're the one who usually has this sort of resource", Enjolras stated.

"There's probably something in the second floor", Gavroche said. "When they brought me in I thought I saw a warehouse on the way. There's probably alcohol in there".

"Good. Stay here and I'll go pick it up", Grantaire said, already standing up and rushing away.

Enjolras pulled Combeferre away from hearing distance with him.

"It's me who they want", the blonde muttered.

"No", Combeferre replied instantly, already starting to turn away.

"No, Ferre, listen. If I surrender, they might let you go..."

"Don't act naive. Even if you give in they'll kill us all and you know it".

"Fine. Then it may buy you guys some time to run away".

"I'm not going to allow that, Enjolras. Grantaire is not going to allow that. He won't leave you behind even if it kills him".

Enjolras hesitated.

"How can you know that?"

"It's clear to everyone but you".

"There might not be another way, Combeferre".

"Enjolras, if you die, the revolution dies with you. We need you. I need you. Not as my leader, but as my friend. I won't let you sacrifice yourself when there's another way".

"Found it!" they heard Grantaire exclaim, and turning back, Enjolras spotted him, radiant, holding two bottles of ethilic alcohol on his hands.

"Good", Enjolras said, approaching the man and ignoring Combeferre standing nearer than usual to him. "How shall we do this?"

"Ok, so both passages are blocked. That means we'll need time to unblock them and go through. These here", he shook the bottles, "won't stop them altogether, but it'll buy us time to unblock one of the exits. Some of us will need to cover the ones unblocking the path, but since most of them will be on fire it shouldn't be too difficult".

"There will be probably more of them outside", Combeferre pointed.

"Yeah, one problem at the time. We'll shoot them down as we go, I don't know, we just need to get the fuck out of here before their backups arrive, which will be soon so I suggest we get going", Grantaire said, preparing the molotovs.

"Did Feuilly and Bahorel made it out?" Enjolras asked Combeferre.

"Last time I saw them they were headed to the gates", Combeferre said.

"Ok. Let's do this, R", Enjolras said, getting up. Addressing the whole group of people with them, he said: "Ok, so this is what we'll do. We'll set fire to their barricades and use the distraction to unblock the door. Some of them might fight back, so we'll have to unite to take them down. Me

and Combeferre will cover for you but we'll need help to do so". Many people nodded at him as he spoke.

"Where will we go when we get out?" a man asked.

"You are free to join us in our headquarters or to go on your own way. It's up to you and you're free to choose".

"This is all your fault", a woman said, getting up from where she was crouched on the floor. Grantaire stopped what he was doing to look at her, recognizing her as the thin woman tied to the bed of the room he was guarding. "You did this to us", she spat.

"No, BL Industries did this to you. I'm only trying to help you and provide you safety", Enjolras explained patiently.

"You did this!" she yelled, raising her gun and pointing it at Enjolras. Grantaire was by his side in a moment, hand on the faser tugged on the back of his pants.

"Put the gun down", Grantaire asked menacingly.

"You killed the world!" the woman shouted. All the people who had been near her a moment before were already as distant as possible.

"BL Industry killed the world", Combeferre explained, hand also on his phaser.

"Liar!" she exclaimed. "You are lying, BL is only trying to help us... to give us a... a better living!" there were tears running down her cheeks.

"No, this is what they want you to think", Enjolras reasoned.

"Put the fucking gun down, lady", Grantaire said.

The woman seemed to hesitate for a second.

And then she pulled the trigger.

Grantaire only had time to shove Enjolras to his side, so that the shot hit his shoulder instead of his heart. The blonde fell hard on his back, screaming, and Grantaire didn't hesitate to shoot the woman on the head, ignoring Combeferre's cry of "no!"

The cynic was by the leader's side in a second, falling hard on his knees, without even realizing he was calling the man's name over and over, louder each time.

"It's gonna be ok, you're gonna be fine, do you hear me?" Grantaire said, holding the blonde's hand on his. "You'll be alright Enjolras, 'tis but a scratch ok? You'll be up and about in no time, you'll see".

"Grantaire, let me through, let me check the wound", Combeferre shoved him to the side.

"How bad is it?" Grantaire asked, pushing erratic golden locks from Enjolras' brow, ignoring the way his eyes were shut tight with pain and his breathing was irregular.

"He'll survive but it probably hurts like hell. It's the new toxin they're using. We need to get him treated".

Grantaire let go of Enjolras' hand, regretting it the moment the man let out a strangled whimper.

"I'll be right back, Enjolras, I'll be right back to you ok? I'm going to blow the shit up of those vampires and I'll get you out of here. I'll get you home", he told him. Enjolras gave him a small nod, and Grantaire stole a quick kiss from his lips before getting up and going to the alcohol bottles. He saw Gavroche hovering nearby, and signalled for the boy to come closer.

"Gav, I need you to stick close to Combeferre ok?" he asked.

"No, I'm staying with you", the boy protested.

"This is not a fucking request!" he yelled, and felt regret hit him as the boy's eyes went wide as saucers. "Really Gav, we came all this way to save you and we can't lose you. Éponine would eat my ass. Please, stay close to Ferre and get out of here alive ok?"

"What do you mean? Aren't you going to come with us?"

"I am, but I'm gonna cover for you so I'll be a little on the back and it'll be dangerous. Alright?"

"Fine. But I'mma tell Ép to beat the shit out of you when we get back".

"Splendid. Now go to Combeferre and tell him I'll throw the cocktails right now".

"Alright", the boy said, getting up. "Be safe, R".

"You too, brat. See you on the car".

He spared a glance at Combeferre, who was helping a confused and pained Enjolras to get up, before he threw the bottles. The entire group got ready to run as soon as they heard the unmistakable sound of glass breaking, men screaming and fire crackling. Random shots were being thrown at all directions by burning vampires as they tried to hit an unseen enemy. The ex prisoners rushed by to start do dismantle the barricade on the door, as Grantaire and other seven fifteen brave people stood back and started to shoot at the erratic vampires. Grantaire knew he was running out of ammo and the bag with the remaining guns was hanging limply from Gavroche's shoulder. Grantaire decided to save his ammo and pulled out his knives, knowing this was a terrible idea because most of his enemies were literally on fire and he did not look forward to burning his hands again.

Just as he approached an ablaze vampire and removed his knife from it's chest, bracing himself to face another one as laser shots flew around like sparkles and only missed his head because of an unseen miracle, the lights were back on.

He looked at the back door, seeing people rushing by. The mechanic door was trying to close itself, bumping against a physical trammel that Grantaire realized to be a chair. People kept jumping over it and trying to get away from the place, ex prisoners pushing and shoving each other to pass through the small gap between door frame and door. The chair was wooden and it wouldn't be able to sustain much more impact from the heavy metal door. It was already beggining to crack.

Combeferre was lingering beside the doorframe, Gavroche already outside and trying to help a half concious Enjolras go through it. As soon as the blonde's nearly limp body went through the small space, Combeferre climbed the chair and hopped outside right after him. Grantaire looked at the other door on the extreme oposite side of the building, the main entrance, and saw an army of vampires entering the facility and already shooting at the remaining prisoners. The BL/Ind backup had finally arrived and they were already opening fire.

"Grantaire! C'mon, what are you doing? Grantaire!" he heard Combeferre call.

He was 80 feet away from the back door. The vampires were 10 feet away from him. Enjolras, Combeferre and Gavroche were already outside, the only thing keeping them from their safety was the small gap from where the door was unnable to close. The vampires were approaching. There was no way he would make it in time without risking his friends' safety. Without risking their lives.

He spared a last look at Enjolras. He was clearly very close to passing out, but was still trying to weakly pull Combeferre towards the gates. He probably hadn't realized Grantaire was still inside the building. The cynic remembered a piece of their conversation three nights ago, that right there, at that moment, seemed like a lifetime ago.

_"I thought you were keeping up"._

_"Look back and check, next time"._

Grantaire thought about the feel of Enjolras' lips against his own and the way he smiled at him on the rooftop on that night, skin warm against his and eyes shining purple with the color of the night sky, before he took aim and shot the chair holding the door. The wood exploded in a million pieces that went flying around like opaque and dead fireworks, sending splinters of broken, burnt wood around the thick air that smelt like blood and burnt flesh. The sound of Combeferre's pleas and calls was cut off by the heavy metal door finally shutting close, blocking all sound coming from the outside.

He turned around and let go of his knives, useless now in a close combat. The metal clinked as it collided with the floor, the piercing metalic sound all that Grantaire could hear as he pulled his guns from their holster, shooting at as many vampires as he could as the battalion of vampires approached, pretending his vision wasn't blurred by tears.

-

 

Combeferre gaped in horror as the metal door closed and Grantaire remained inside.

"No! R!" Gavroche yelled, banging his fists against the door and trying to pull it open with his fingers.

After a few seconds of disbelief, he grabbed the boy by the arm, pulling him away forcefully.

"Let's go. We need to go!" he ushered.

"No, R's still inside, we need to help him!" the boy protested.

"We can't help him anymore, right now we need to help Enjolras, I think he passed out", Combeferre explained as he tried to hold Enjolras up and pull the boy towards the gate at the same time. Gavroche reluctantly passed the injured man's arm around his shoulder, still trying to look back at the door. Enjolras hissed in pain.

The trio headed to the open gate, walking as fast as they could and trying to ignore the dead bodies scattered on the floor. Four vampires crossed the gates, coming from outside and already reaching for their weapons, so Combeferre had to let go of Enjolras body to take a shot at them. The blonde collapsed against Gavroche, who couldn't sustain the weight alone, sending both of them hard on the ground, Gavroche stuck beneath Enjolras' body. Combeferre took down three of the vampires and was wrestling the fourth, both phasers forgotten on the ground, when a pickup stopped abruptly in front of the open gate and Joly and Bossuet hopped out of its back, taking aim at the vampire and killing him with several shots as Combeferre held him on a chokehold.

"We need to go, their backup arrived!" Combeferre screamed, rushing back to Enjolras. "Where is everyone else?" He could see Bahorel on the driver seat, but no other Ami was on sight.

"They're all safe, already headed to the HQ. We're the ones who'll need to mislead these fucking vampires by taking the long way, though!" Bossuet provided, helping to raise Enjolras from where he was nearly crushing Gavroche.

"Christ, what happened with him? A single shot wasn't supposed to do this!" Joly commented, as he and Bossuet dragged an unconscious Enjolras to the pickup as quickly as they could and shoved him on the pickup's back. Combeferre came rushing with a startled Gavroche on his arms, climbing on the back with them and hitting the car body twice to let Bahorel know he could take off. The car started and Bahorel didn't worry about going slowly as they rushed away from the facilty as fast as the vehicle would go.

"Where... Where's R?" Joly asked, finally looking up from Enjolras' injured shoulder.

Combeferre kept staring ahead, the BL facility nothing but a dark, smoky shadow against the purple sky. Suddenly, the darkness was cut as a small rectangular shining form appeared on the bottom of the building, yellowish light contrasting with the darkness that had stood against the sky. The vampires had managed to open the door Grantaire had closed. And they were probably on their way.

"Is he...?", Joly continued, voice shaking.

"I don't know", Combeferre uttered. "The door closed before he could go through it. He got stuck inside".

"Shit", Bossuet cursed while Joly turned his head, trying to hide his tears. "Fucking shit".

Enjolras let out a whimper followed by a groan.

"Wha'...?" the blonde tried to rise from his laying position, only to hiss in pain and fall back as he put weight on the injured shoulder.

"You were shot, Enjolras, you need to stay down", Joly warned, a reassuring hand holding the blonde in place.

"Where...?"

"We're on the car heading home, mon Ami. Don't worry", Combeferre said, brushing Enjolras' lock away from his eyes.

"Where's R?" Enjolras asked. No one dared to answer.

The silence apparently upset Enjolras, because he started to struggle against Joly's hand while franctically looking around.

"Where's Grantaire? Where is he?"

"Enjolras please calm down, you'll make your injury worse", Joly cried, barely hiding his tears now.

"No, fuck, where's? Where's Taire, I need to tell him, I didn't... I didn't tell him, he needs to know!"

"Know what, Enjolras?" Bossuet asked, voice hoarse, sounding horrified.

"That I... That I lov-"

But before Enjolras could muster a complete answer, his eyes rolled to the back of his skull and his head felt back with a sharp thud, the consciousness leaving him and making him pass out. A disquieting silence fell among them, no one daring to look at each other or at the unconscious blonde as they drove away from the fire and into the darkness of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, I know I took forever to update but school is finally over and now I'll have time to finnish the fic, probably this year!  
> I guess you guys figured out what was going to happen from the name of the chapter, but hey, things will get better. Eventually. I guess. Maybe.  
> Well, comments and kudos are always appreciated, and so is constructive criticism!  
> Thank you very much for reading this and being patient ^-^  
> If anyone wants to follow me on tumblr, the username is edema--ruh.


	8. S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W

 

 

 

_ Love , love _   
_ Love won't stop this bomb, bomb [   
](http://genius.com/6491497) Love won't stop this bomb, bomb   
Love won't stop this bomb _

_ Run, run,  bunny run _

_ Run, run,  bunny run _

 

As the pickup came to a stop on the side of the road, Enjolras was starting to come back to consciousness.

Joly had made a makeshift pillow out of his jacket and put it under his leader's head, to keep it from bumping constantly on the cold metal floor of the pickup's back. His medical kit had been left forgotten on Feuilly's car trunk, since he had rushed to aid his friends as soon as he heard that Enjolras, Grantaire and Combeferre were still on the BL building with Gavroche.

The image he saw of Enjolras as he was carried by a grief-looking Combeferre and a startled Gavroche was one he never thought he'd see in his life. The man looked as pale as a sheet, sweat dripping from his frowning forehead, face twisted in pain. On his right shoulder, a hole the size of a fist, exposing burnt flesh  throught  the torn fabric of his vampire jacket. There was nothing Joly could do for him without his medical kit, but the knowledge that the wound wasn't fatal eased his mind. It did hurt very badly, on the other way, and seeing Enjolras twist his brow and breathe harshly in his uneasy sleep made the young medical student bite his lip in justified worry.

Joly started to list the first things he'd have to do as soon as they reached the base to treat Enjolras' injuries and make the leader as comfortable as possible. Creating a mental order of things and checking them out as he accomplished the tasks always helped him focusing and doing things more quickly. He rehearsed the entire list several times until he knew it by heart, and then he continued to do so over again.

It was better than thinking about Grantaire.

As soon as the name invaded his thoughts (he couldn't blame himself for that), his eyes filled with water  again. Joly lowered his head and blinked several times, until he was sure no tears would leak out. He tried to think about the list again, it's important items and procedures, but now the only thing his mind would focus on was on Grantaire, his friend, Grantaire left for dead, Grantaire abandoned, Grantaire being shot several times, Grantaire's corpse burning by the flames he'd set himself. This time he couldn't prevent the tears from falling but he weeped quietly, not wanting to startle the young Gavroche, who had just fallen asleep leaning against Combeferre's shoulder.

The young boy was malnourished and his pupils were too dilated for Joly's liking, but otherwise he was fine. Before he finally succumbed to tiredness, Joly had to ask him questions a bout what happened on that facility in the three days he and Jehan had been stuck there.

"I don't remember getting there.  I remember falling from the car with Jehan, then trying to escape but then everything got hazy and slowed down, as if  seconds had beco me hours or something. Then everything went dark but when I woke up everything was white. There were vampires dragging me across a hall and I tried to escape but my body wasn't doing what I wanted. I think I passed out again, because when I opened my eyes again  I was tied to a bed and all the walls and lights were bright. I don't know if that was my imagination or if they were actually bright, though. Then I started yelling and tried to kick my bindings off but  I  couldn't. Sometime passed until a draculoid came in with a s y ringe  and he st uck  me with it, then he went away. I don't know what it did to me, I can't tell, but after some time another one came in and did the same thing. They did it several times during the first day, I lost count. Then a old man came in the room and just stared at me. I said 'the fuck you looking at?' but he just kept staring. I was feeling weird, it was still like time was slowing down. Then he came closer and pulled out a little bottle from his pocket and shook it on my face. I knew it was those drugs they give to the people to restrain feelings so I kept my mouth shut and turned my face. But he held my nose and I had to open my mouth to breathe and when I did  he shoved the pill  down my throat. I couldn't spit it out".

"Did they give you any more of those pills?" Bossuet asked.

"They did, today, some time before you broke in. I don't think they've had any effect though. I didn't feel any different".

"That's probably because they're feeling inhibitors. Since you're still very young, they'd probably need to give you more doses until it affected you  permanently ", Joly explained. "I don't know about Jehan, though, I just had the time to make sure he wasn't dying before I rushed to help you. But I believe he'll be fine, three days is not enough time to wreck someone beyond repair with these pills, no matter how strong they're making them".

"Sleep a bit, Gavroche", Bossuet advised. "We're still have a long way before those morons catch up with us, and you need to rest".

"I'm fine", the boy said, but in no less tha n ten  minutes he was already out, leaning against Combeferre.

A long silence settled again, but Combeferre was the one to break it this time.

"It wasn't a vampire".

Joly and Bossuet looked up at him at the same time, confused.

"Enjolras wasn't shot by a vampire", he explained. "One of the people we helped did it".

"Why?" Bossuet frowned.

"She was out of control. From the way she looked I'd say she was stuck there for a long, long time. She didn't look sane. She started yelling about how Enjolras was to blame about everything that happened to them, and pointed a gun at him. Grantaire only managed to push him out of the way so that the shot didn't kill him, but he got hit all the same".

"Jesus", Bossuet muttered.

"What did you do to her?" Joly asked, ap p rehensive .

"R killed her", Combeferre said, looking down at his hands.

At the mention of the affectionate nickname, Bossuet and Joly looked away.

"Why did he get stuck, Ferre?" Joly asked, voice cracking. "Why wasn't he near you when you escaped?"

"He knew Enjolras was hurt and stayed back to cover for us. Then their backups arrived and he realized there was no way he'd make it to the door without them making it too. There was a chair blocking the door and keeping it from closing. He shot it so the vampires would be stuck inside for enough time for us to get away. He saved our lives", Combeferre finished, and Joly pretended not to notice the moisture on his glasses.

"Fucking bastard", Bossuet was the first one to sob. "I hate him. How could he do this? Him and his fucking giant heart".

"You don't hate him", Joly whispered, trying to control the trembling in his voice.

"Of course I don't, he was one of my best friends! A brother", he sobbed.

"We don't know if he's dead for sure", Joly said, knowing it sounded hollow. A childish hope. "We can't know that. The last Combeferre saw, he was still alive, wasn't he?"

Combeferre lowered his head.

"There were too many of them, Joly. Even for Grantaire", he said. Joly bit his lip.

"I don't... I  can't  believe that. There is no way R's dead, that just doesn't feel right", Bossuet muttered, rubbing his face.

"We can't afford another break in", Combeferre said.  Not for a man who's probably dead , his unsaid words hanged on the air. "Bahorel has at least two  broken ribs and a broken nose. Feuilly defin ite ly  twisted his wrist and was grazed all over. We don't know how bad Jehan is yet, and Courfeyrac isn't 100 percent , no matter what he tells us. We don't know how long it will take for Enjolras to recover, we're all too shaken up to do something. And he's most likely gone, I'm sorry, he was my friend too, but there were too many of them and they weren't taking any prisoners. They were shooting to kill. I'm sorry".

"We should do something",  Joly  muttered after some time. "A funeral. Symbolic. Just to honor his memory".

"We should", Bossuet agreed. "He'd hate it, though".

Joly gave him a small smile.

"He would, wouldn't him".

"Everyone should get drunk in his honor", Bossuet added, grabbing Joly's hand and squeezing it reassuringly.

"Yeah", Combeferre agreed for their surprise.

"Man, Éponine will lose her shit over this", Bossuet commented after a few minutes.

"She probably will", Joly agreed, trying to keep the sadness from his voice.

It didn't work.

-

The pickup creaked as it stopped by the side of the road. Enjolras stirred and his eyelids fluttered, Joly kneeling by his side in a moment to ease him.

Bossuet hopped off the car's back, gesturing to Combeferre to stay where he was, since Gavroche was still sleeping soundly, head now leaning on the man's lap.

He made his way to the driver's door, where Bahorel was leaning against it uncomfortably , tired look on his face and recently lit cigarette dangling from his lips. He could see the dried blood that dripped from his nose when it broke.

"Why'd you stop?" Bossuet asked.

"Figured we should be being followed by now", Bahorel  muttered.

"Yeah, it's odd. Something's off. We saw them running out  the gates but they didn't grab any car to follow us".

"You think they're not coming?"

"I think they should have reached us by now".

"We keep going with plan B or we take the shortest way to HQ?" Bahorel disposed of the cigarette, throwing it across the air with a  graciousless  flick and stepping on it to kill the flame.

"I don't know. Enjolras is wounded and Gavroche is malnourished, but I still think it's safer to take the longer path and keep them from finding out where we live", Bossuet admitted, sighing and taking a look at the pickup's back. He could see Gavroche awake now, rubbing his eyes and sitting upright. He couldn't see Combeferre from that angle, so he assumed the man was helping Joly with Enjolras' shoulder.

"Alright. I'll try going a bit faster though. If you see anything let me know and we'll end them", Bahorel stated, opening the car door and climbing his way back inside. Bossuet nodded and made to go back to his seat, but Bahorel cleared his throat as if to stop him. "About R", he started, and Bossuet's heart tightened inside his chest. "Is there any chance he made it?"

Bossuet thought for a long time before answering.

"Probably not", he uttered, and walked away.

When Bossuet climbed to the pickup's back, he wish he'd asked Bahorel to ride with him in the front. He wasn't sure he could take any more of that situation without a strong drink, which was something un available on the moment.

Joly  was trying to hold down a sobbing Enjolras, who kept trying to shove him away with his good arm to get up. Combeferre was at the man's side, whispering soothing yet apparently ineffective words on his ear, to calm him down. The car took off, only to strengthen Enjolras' attempts to sit up.

"No, let me go back, stop the car,  we need to help him...", Enjolras was muttering, between sobs. The situation was so surreal that Bossuet was sure it could only be a dream. When he wakes up, Grantaire will still be alive and Enjolras will be as stoic as ever.

"Enjolras please, you're upsetting your shoulder, don't make me have to put you under", Joly was begging, still trying to ease him down.

"No, don't you get it? He isn't dead, we can help him, tell B'horel to turn back, we can help him...", Enjolras insisted.

Joly caught Bossuet's as tonished gaze and murmured "it's probably the pain, he's still not completely sober".

"I am sober Joly, let go of me, we need to go back!"

"Enjolras, the facility was overrun by vampires, we can't go back", Combeferre explained in a patient yet tired tone. "We are lucky enough we made it out alive".

"We can't leave him there!" Enjolras yelled. "We don't leave people behind".

"He's dead", Gavroche said in a firm voice. They all looked at him, startled. The boy was looking directly at their leader, eyes empty . He looked older than he truly was.

"What?" Enjolras asked in a small voice.

"He's dead, Enjolras. There's nothing you can do about it. Maybe you should've showed him you cared before he died", the boy continued. Enjolras gaped at him, a horrified look on his face.

"Gavroche!" Combeferre reprehended.

"Don't mind him, it's the pills" Joly said, albeit shocked himself.

"He c-can't be dead", Enjolras murmured, all fight leaving him and finally letting Joly lay him down. "H-he can't".

The wound was his shoulder was bleeding now, torn open by all the movement he was making, and Joly started to put pressure on it, earning a  yelp  from Enjolras.

"No J-Joly, it hurts", he muttered, hands scrambling over the doctor's and trying very weakly to push them away. All the energy he had used to fight Joly off was gone now, eyelids fluttering half-shut and breathing evening out.

"I know, Enj, but I have to do this to stop the bleeding, I'm sorry. Just go to sleep, you'll be just fine when you wake up",  Joly  assured.

"But... I have...", Enjolras protested, groggy, wincing.

"Just close your eyes, Enjolras", Combeferre said, squeezing the man's hand. "It'll all go away if you just close your eyes".

"Is... Is everyone okay?" the blonde  asked. He was so out of it.

"Yes, everyone's ok", Combeferre assured.

" Courf ?" Enjolras frowned.

"Yes, he and Jehan are on the other car. They're both fine".

Enjolras seemed to relax at that, slowly lying his head  againts  Joly's jacket and allowing his eyes to close. He was nearly giving in to unconsciousness when a sudden thought appeared on his pain-hazed mind.

"Grantaire?" he uttered, but before he could listen to the answer, Morpheus claimed his attention and he fell into his arms, succumbing to a deep dark sleep.

-

Jehan was dozing on Courfeyrac's shoulder as they drove into the night, the sour smell of the vampire outfit sending a burning sensation to his nose. He leaned closer despite of the odor, Courf's arms automatically holding him tight, hands tracing soft  circular patterns on his back.

Feuilly was the one driving with only one hand , eyes glued on the road, not a single word spoken since they took off in a rush. A scared woman was sitting beside him, laser gun still clutched tight against her chest, and two twin boys were squeezed between Jehan and the car door. Other people that had been stuck in the facility had split up  either on a stolen car  with Marius, their old pickup with  Cosette or  on the van with Antoine. Some people didn't want to join Les Amis, deciding to try their luck and make it home. Jehan couldn't understand why someone who'd been locked up all this time in a room would risk getting caught or killed instead of going somewhere safe, but he tried not to dwell too much on it. He had other things to think about.

The road drive was shorter than he'd thought it'd be, but maybe that was just the short naps he kept taking accidentally. He hadn't even realized he was asleep until  Courfeyrac shook him awake softly, placing a small kiss on the top of his head.

"We're home, Jehan", he said. Jehan turned his head so he could look the man in the eyes, and placed a short kiss on Courf's lips. He knew his lips were chapped and dry, but he didn't care. Thinking about Courfeyrac was what made him resist the temptation of succumbing to the drugs they gave him.

Remembering said drugs sent a shiver down his spine and his stomach churned, nausea filling his throat. He trembled, cold sweat running down his forehead, and swallowed dry.

"You okay?" Courfeyrac asked, worry making him frown.

"Yes, just... feeling a little sick", Jehan assured him, taking the man's hand when he offered to help him out of the car.

Feuilly had parked the car two blocks away from their HQ as a safe measure. The redhead was limping slightly, due to a shot that grazed his left leg, but refused Courfeyrac's help to walk back to the building. Jehan was fine, just feeling a bit unsteady on his feet due to a sudden wave of dizziness that hit him. The nervous woman seemed to feel the same, as she stumbled on her feet every two minutes.

One of the twin boys was the first one to fall to his knees.

"Hey, easy there! You okay?" Courfeyrac asked, rushing to his side. The boy started to dry heave, nothing coming out of his stomach, brother on his side with a supportive hand on his shoulder as he retched.

"Breathe", the boy's brother told him.

"How long have you two been there?" Feuilly asked, brow furrowed.

"I d-don't know", the boy supporting his brother said. "D-days there tended t-to mix. W-we were there for a-ages from what I k-know".

"They didn't give us windows", the woman muttered, the first words she'd said all night. "There were no windows. Only light".

"Yeah", the boy confirmed.

"When were you captured?" Feuilly continued.

"On  t-the rally", the boy said, as the woman said "Short after your transmission".

"We should get going", Jehan suggested, nervous. "We can talk about this inside".

"Jehan's right", Feuilly agreed. "Let's go".

The woman promptly followed the redhead. Courfeyrac helped the heaving boy up, supporting most of his weight until his brother passed his arm around his shoulder. Courfeyrac went back to Jehan's side then, grabbing his hand affectionately as they made his way to the apartment. The boys fell a bit behind, too weak to keep their pace up.

They were almost in front of the wrecked building when they heard a sharp "no!" and two bodies colliding. Turning around all at the same time, they saw the two boys on the ground, wrestling for something.

"They're just trying to help!" one of them yelled.

"It's their fault! It's their fault!" the other screamed.

"Leave them alone, they saved us!"

"No! They did it to us!"

The sanest brother managed to climb on the top of the other, holding him down, as Feuilly approached the pair to separate them.

"What's going on with you? Be quiet!" he said, trying to break them apart. 

He pulled brother 1 from the top of the other with his good hand, a wicked look on his face, as brother 2  promptly sat up on the floor.

"Let me go, I'm trying to stop him!", brother 1 struggled.

"Alright, whatever this is, we can solve this inside", Feuilly pulled brother 2 to his feet.

"Watch out!" brother 1 yelled, turning around and shielding his head with his arms.

Brother 2 had taken his laser gun, the one Jehan provided to the prisoners. He was pointing it at Feuilly with shaky hands.

"Alright, put that down", the redhead said, raising his hands slightly and approaching the boy.

"You did this!" brother 2 accused.

"I didn't do anything. I got you out of the facility, remember?" Feuilly tried to reason. He tried to step forward as to approach the boy, but he raised his gun to point at the redhead's skull. Feuilly stayed where he was.

Near the scene, Courfeyrac had pulled a trembling Jehan behind him in a protective manner, reaching slowly to his phaser not to draw attention . Brother 1 was crouched on the ground, arms still covering his head. The woman was near Courfeyrac, eyes wide as saucers, gun trembling on her grip.

"It's your fault, I wouldn't be stuck if it wasn't for you!" brother 2 accused.

"Ok, calm down. Put away the gun and we can talk about this ok?" Feuilly said.

"No!" he screamed. His hands were shaking too much. He'd pull the trigger any time.

Feuilly couldn't risk it. He threw himself against the boy, holding the hand that held the gun to the side to prevent him from shooting. The boy could be no older than 16, but he still put up a fight, even malnourished. He kicked and threw random punches with the arm Feuilly couldn't hold due to his sprained wrist. Feuilly twisted the hand holding the gun, earning a  yelp  from the boy and making him finally let go of the phaser. Feuilly twisted his aching body to kick the weapon away from the boy's grip, managing to get himself behind the struggling lad and hold him in a chokehold.

"What the hell?" Feuilly yelled at the boy's ear. He was still struggling, hands scratching desperately at the redhead's arm in an attempt to make him let go. "What the hell were you thinking?"

Feuilly's answer was the sound of a gun cocking.

He looked up and saw the quiet woman aiming her phaser at him.

Few tense seconds that felt like an eternity passed by, Feuilly staring at her defiantly, heart beating fast on his chest, the boy uselessly scratching his arm. He wanted to look at Courfeyrac for help, but at the same time he couldn't tear his gaze away from her face in fear she'd shoot. He opened his mouth to say something – what he was about to say, he didn't even know – when she pulled the trigger.

The shot hit the struggling boy right between his eyes,  and his hands, that had been  pulling out the skin from Feuilly's arm and drawing blood, collided  gracelessly with the concrete , his whole body going limp as a ragdoll .

The woman put down her smoky weapon and threw it away, eyes wide open, as if she had just realized what she'd done. Beside her, Courfeyrac put down his own gun, that had been aimed at her head.

Feuilly let go of the chokehold and the boy's body fell from his grip, laying sideways on the harsh concrete. His brother was still covering his head, but strangled sobs could be heard coming from his direction.

"Holy shit", Courfeyrac broke the silence.

"What shall we do with... with the body?" Jehan asked, still nauseous.

"I don't know", Feuilly admitted, getting up and limping to the woman's side. He hadn't taken his eyes off her since she pointed her weapon at him. "What's your name?" he asked.

The woman swallowed dryly several times before uttering an answer.

"Fantine", she said, finally. "My name is Fantine".

-

Éponine was the one to greet them by the door, being the only original Ami left on the HQ. She was still using a makeshift crutch because of her leg, despite her liking, and had to limp away for them to go through the door.

"Where's Gavroche?" she asked after hugging Jehan tightly with one arm.

"Enjolras, Combeferre and Grantaire stayed back to help him. They found me first", Jehan smiled apologetically. "I'm afraid they'll be the last ones to arrive, Cosette,  Marius and Antoine took off no longer after us, which means it's up to their group to mislead possible pursuers".

"Where are they?" Éponine asked, trying not to look nervous. As if to answer, a woman guarding the window announced the arrival of a pickup.

"I'll show you your rooms", Feuilly told Fantine and the boy, who they'd discovered to be called Gervais. "They're in the upstairs apartment, since this one is already full. Don't worry, though, you won't be alone there, it already has some recruits". The trio left the apartment just as a wild looking Cosette rushed in, helping a man who were probably in his fifties and seemed to sustain a head injury. Around 14 people came rushing after her, flooding the apartment. Feuilly  took it upon himself to scatter the new people around the other places in the building. God knew how they'd manage to feed them all.

"All right people, I'll show you to your rooms, follow me", the ginger  man announced, leading them out. Éponine approached Cosette and the old man, as the young woman  dabbed  a cut on his forehead with a wet cloth.

"You'll be alright papa, you're safe now", she was muttering soothingly.

"You found your father", Éponine heard herself saying and shut her mouth close, regretting it immediately. She'd never been amiable towards Cosette, whether because she was everything Éponine could never be or because of the left over feelings she still sustained for Marius, she couldn't tell. The mature part of her brain told her to quit it, but her inner vengeful child told her they shouldn't be friends.

"I did", Cosette told her, smiling as if she could never be happier in her life. 

"Cosette, are we safe here?" the man asked, groping her hands and scanning her face for any signs of lying. "Are we safe? Can we trust these people?"

"Yes, papa. I'd trust them with my life. Look at how many people they saved today. They're good people", the girl assured, putting the man's hands away gently and resuming her task of dabbing  his wound. As she heard Marius' voice on the hallway,  Éponine turned around and went back to her room without another word.

She knew Joly instructed her to stay at the medical room until he deemed her healthy enough to go back to the one she shared with her siblings and Grantaire, but the whole place smelt of disinfectant and Courfeyrac , and she didn't want to leave her little sister alone in the room. She couldn't even play with Céline to distract herself anymore, and with Gavroche gone, she was probably feeling more lonely than ever.

As she entered the room, she could see a small lump on her bed, a curious head rising from the  bedsheets  as  Éponine  closed the door with a click.

"Is Gav here?" Azelma asked, hopeful.

"Not yet",  Éponine  sighed. "But Jehan's back and he said R and the others had gone pick him up. They'll be here any minute now. You know how R is, I'm sure he and Gav will go through that door laughing as if nothing had happened".

In the darkness of the room she could see her sister nod vehemently.

"And Ferre?" she asked, and Éponine knew her sister was too smart for her own good.

"Stayed with them.  He, R  and Enjolras stuck  together to pick  Gav  up. Don't worry ok? Go back to sleep".

"I can't sleep. I've tried to but I keep thinking of Gav".

"Then I'll stay with you",  Éponine  said, climbing into the bed with some difficulty and pulling her sister close.

Éponine  had fallen into a deep sleep when a loud clattering sound came from the medical room. Rising on the bed immediately, she disentangled  her self from her sleeping sister and got up, crutch  forgotten on the ground as she limped out of the bedroom. As she approached the medical room, heart thumping on her chest, she lingered on the doorway, trying to hear what was going on inside.

"Grab me that bottle over there, quick, before he wakes again!" Joly was shouting orders to someone.

"This one?" she heard Bossuet  ask.

"No, goddamit, let me through, Ferre, keep him down!"

She knew this was probably not the best time to go inside, but she needed to   see  Gavroche and make sure he was okay, and she knew that Combeferre had gone back to him. She opened the door without knocking and entered the room before anyone could shoo her away. No one noticed her presence, though, everyone too worried about an unconscious Enjolras, who was lying on the bed as pale as  Éponine  had ever seen him.

The second person she noticed was Combeferre, who was standing  on Enjolras' bedside, hands carefully pining him down on the bed. The measure didn't look necessary, since Enjolras was completely out of it, mouth open slack and one arm hanging loose from the bed.

She looked around the room, ignoring a frantic Joly who was still shouting orders at someone, looking for her little brother. Her eyes came to a stop as she saw him sitting on the ground, on the corner of the room, away from everyone else. His knees were up to his chest and he was shaking, the only person near him being Jehan, who kept rubbing soothing circles on the boy's back. Ignoring Bossuet's call of "hey, 'Ponine, wait", she limped her way to her brother, crouching down beside him despite the pain in her leg.

"Gav? Are you okay?" she asked, placing her hand on his wild hair and scratching it in a  way he loved. The boy kept sobbing, which scared  Éponine . Her brother never cried in public.

"He's gone", Gavroche sobbed after a few moments, not looking up from where his face was hidden by his arms.

Éponine  was confused for a second, looking around the room. Joly was applying something to Enjolras' shoulder, the blonde now twisting on the bed and emitting hisses and moans, Combeferre by his side helping to hold the man. Bossuet was lingering nearby, holding bottles on his hand ready to aid. On the next bed, a terrified-looking Courfeyrac watched the scene, not knowing what to do. The cot closest to her had Cosette's dad, with a startled Cosette sitting on the mattress. Grantaire was nowhere to be found.

"Where's R?" she asked, voice steady . Her stomach was cold with fear.

Nobody answered as they kept working on Enjolras, Joly still concentrated on the injured Enjolras and asking Bossuet to let go of the bottles and grab some bandages. She raised her voice,  unnable  to keep it from trembling this time.

"Where's Grantaire?"

This time everyone but  Joly  came to a halt. Combeferre was the only one to try to approach her, slowly moving with his arms raised as if to calm her. As if she was some kind of animal.

She slapped his hands away, annoyed, and asked again. "Where's Grantaire?"

"Ép, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry", he muttered, and forcefully pulled her into a bear hug, despite her efforts to get away. She wasn't crying, she couldn’t cry, crying would only make it all become real. And there was no way this was happening. Not to Grantaire.

"Tell me", she said, trying to breathe, trying to keep tears from falling.

"He didn't make it", Combeferre whispered, mournful, and somehow hearing those words from him, of all people, sent a piercing sensation through her heart and she heard herself let out a strangled sob.

"How?" she asked before she lost all the control over her voice.

"He stayed back to cover for us", Combeferre explained, one hand caressing her hair and the other keeping her close. "When he figured out there was no way he'd make it out without risking our lives he locked himself inside with the vampires".

Éponine started to sob freely now, fingers clutching the fabric of Combeferre's ugly smelly shirt, her tears leaving wet marks over it. She could hear nearly everyone in the room crying now, and in a quick second of sobriety she thought about how Grantaire used to think he was unloved, how he thought his friends despised him. If only he was here to see how much everyone mourned him, even Cosette, who hadn't known him for as long, was weeping quietly beside her father.

If only he was there.

Her injured leg gave into her weight and the only thing propping her body upwards was Combeferre, who managed to half-support  her half-caress her at the same time. Eventually they both sat on the floor, Éponine's face bu ried on his chest, loud, ugly sobs tearing them selves from her throat. Her head was pounding with the force of her cries, but as minutes ticked by she went silent, only the tears still falling from her half-shut eyes.

"Alright, all we can do now is wait", Joly said from somewhere above her. She felt Combeferre nod.

Éponine didn't have it in her to get up just yet, so she stayed there, body glued with Combeferre's, breathing ragged and face wet. She wanted to hold her brother, though, keep him from crying but she still didn't know why he was acting like that. It was unlike him.

"What did they do to him?" Éponine whispered to Combeferre, voice cracking. "What did they do to Gavroche?"

"They gave him emotion-inhibiting drugs", Combeferre explained patiently. "The effect must be wearing off by now, so he's feeling everything at the same time. That's probably why he's responding this way".

Éponine nodded once to let the man know she'd understood.

"Ép, it's better if you go to bed. You and Gavroche need to rest in order to get better. Joly already checked him out, there's nothing wrong with him and as soon as all the drugs they gave him wear off, he'll be back to normal".

"Jehan", she heard Joly's tired voice calling. "Please come here, let me check you over, tell me what they gave you".

"I'll", Éponine started, voice hoarse, and had to clear her throat to continue. "I'll need help. To get up". She hated to admit that, but she also knew there was no way she'd get to her bedroom and back to Azelma without aid.

"That's ok, love", Combeferre muttered affectionally, and she knew he was only using the pet name to let her know it was okay to ask for help and she shouldn't be embarrassed. Combeferre got up first and pulled her carefully, helping. He walked her to where Gavroche was still crying, quietly now.

"Gav", she called. "Gav, let's go to bed okay?"

It took a while for the boy to answer, but when he nodded without any sign of reluctance and got to his feet, Éponine  cringed at  how wrong everything was .

Combeferre helped her to the bedroom, where Azelma was still asleep, and eased her to the bed carefully. Gavroche hopped in after her, not even bothering to look embarrassed as he passed his arms around his sister and leaned his head against her shoulder. Combeferre kissed her forehead and silently left the room.

They spent a long time in silence, just listening to each other's breathings, and  Éponine  was beginning to wonder if the boy had fallen asleep when he finally spoke up.

"They want to make a funeral", he whispered. "Something symbolic. To honor his memory".

Éponine  bit her lip before answering.

"He'd hate that", she whispered back.

"I know", Gavroche replied. Neither of them slept on that night.

-

Despite the pain, life went on.

On the following morning , all the original Amis, except for Enjolras – who was still unconscious – went up to the building's rooftop to a small reunion. There wasn't much they could do without calling  unnecessary attention, so Jehan suggested they hung a picture of Grantaire on the wall, one of the very few pictures of him they had. When he still had his camera,  Grantaire loved taking pictures of his friends, but rarely  appeared on the pictures with them. One of the few ones he allowed to be taken had ended up with Jehan, who kept it safe from the man by hiding it somewhere in the middle of his journals. The picture was now glued to the wall by duct tapes, the image of a smiling Grantaire  contrasting against the gray cement.

Jehan also managed to surround the little altar with flowers. They were all fake, of course, since no more flowers grew on those days. The small poet took it upon himself, despite of his current  weakness, to go searching every apartment on the building for decoration  flowers. He didn't find many, but he took the ones he found and made a nice arrangement with them, scattering them ar ound  the picture.

Joly and Bossuet provided the drinks, ending their stock of alcohol. Their food was also running out, which meant they'd have to go on a supply run very soon, especially with more than  30 extra people to feed. They toasted to Grantaire and drank up, nobody daring to wince at the foul taste.  Éponine  was the first one to go back down to the apartment, after staring at the picture for a couple of minutes. Gavroche went after her, dark shadows under his eyes, but Azelma stayed, eyes wet and sad, still staring at the smiling Grantaire on the wall.

"He hated this picture", she told Joly as he approached her, voice small.

"I don't see why. He looks so happy", the doctor replied, putting a comforting hand on the little girl's shoulder.

"I think that's why", Azelma whispered, earning a frown from Joly.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't think R thought he deserved to be happy. I heard him telling this to my sister once  ".

Joly wiped away a tear that had escaped his eye, looking anywhere but at the picture in front of him.

"But I think we made him happy", the girl continued. "Despite everything".

"Yeah", Joly agreed, trying to hide a sob. "I think we did".

-

Enjolras was not dysfunctional .

Or so he kept telling himself.

He only visited Grantaire's memorial once, right after Joly finally let him wander around. When asked if he wanted company, he politely declined and made his way to the rooftop alone. Two weeks had passed since the break in, and he hadn't shed a tear since he properly woke up .  Joly told him all about what happened when he wasn't entirely conscious yet, the things he had said on the pickup, the sobbing, the yelling . Enjolras tried not to look embarrassed despite the odd feeling he had on his chest.

As he stood in front of the picture, though, his vision was blurred by unshed tears. Grantaire's smile sent a sharp pain through his chest and he couldn't breathe properly. How could this be happening? How was it possible that merely two weeks ago, he and Grantaire had been up there, on that same spot, kissing? How could Grantaire leave him there? The whole situation was so surreal that a wave of nausea hit Enjolras, sending him on his knees, tears finally falling from his eyes.

"How could you leave me?" he asked, not sobbing, not daring to emit a sound. The tears staining his reddened cheeks were already embarrassing enough. "How could you leave me without giving me the chance to  tell you  how much I loved you?"

Regret burned deep within his soul. If only Enjolras had realized the true nature of his feelings sooner, if only he had told Grantaire his feelings weren't unrequited. If only he had more time.

But now it was too late. Grantaire was gone forever, and Enjolras would never have the chance of telling the man about how he felt. Dwelling on it would do him no good.

And yet, the tightness of his chest didn't subside, and the pain of his loss didn't get any better. It was  a deep, constant  ache, making it self present with every heartbeat and every breath. He had to let Grantaire go if he ever wanted to go back to his leadership, but how could he, when he knew the only reason the man was dead was because he wanted to keep Enjolras safe?

He remembered the last touch Grantaire gave him, the last kiss as he lied injured on the ground, the last sight he had of the man, bravely throwing flying flames at their enemies. He stole another glance at the picture, Grantaire smiling, face turned to the side, looking at something off the camera that the  photo didn't catch. His eyes shone and behind him Enjolras could see the window of their old HQ, glass broken and dusty. The photography had been taken on the day they moved out.

Enjolras remembered that day. He also remembered entering a discussion with Bahorel about  which of them would have to go on the car's trunk with Grantaire, the vehicle  being too small to fit  all of the  group on the backseat . Bahorel argued that he was too big to fit in the trunk – which was true – and that Grantaire smelt too bad for him to handle being in a small place with him for such a long time . Enjolras remembered promptly arguing back, saying that Grantaire smelt "terrifyingly good , what the hell are you talking about?  This is the worst excuse I've ever heard ". He hear d  the cynic's laugh from meters away, and turned around, embarrassed, only to catch Jehan taking the picture as Grantaire smiled widely at him. Marius was the one who ended up on the truck with  Grantaire , though, Enjolras being squeezed between Bahorel and Feuilly, a sleeping Azelma cradled on his lap.  He wished he could go back in time and change everything from that day on.

But he couldn't.

Grantaire was dead. Enjolras could do nothing about it. He should not worry so much about things he could do nothing about. The status quo, that was something he could try and change. Grantaire's death? Irredeemable.

He lift his good hand to touch the face in the picture, wishing it had the warmth of Grantaire's body. The wind was blowing hard and the surface of the paper was cold, colder than Grantaire had ever been in his life. Cold like the  man always thought Enjolras to be. He remembered something the cynic had yelled at him once, during one of their arguments.

I'll never understand how you can be cold as ice yet  bold as fire.

He would mourn Grantaire. He would feel his absence. But he would not let the man's death be in vain. He would honor his sacrifice by winning the fight against  BL/ind , even if it killed him.

He owed Grantaire as much.

Sparing the picture one last sight, Enjolras turned around and went down the stairs, not looking back, pretending Grantaire was still by his side holding his hand just like on the night they first kissed.

-

"Here is what we know", Combeferre announced. "BL is somehow  brainwashing people to think we're their enemy. Apparently that is how they 'make' vampires, they use drugs and torture to make people become easily manipulated, unquestioning and specially disposable soldiers. That's what they were doing in the facility we broke into.  Thankfully Gavroche and Jehan weren't exposed to their methods for too long, which means they were unaffected . I can't exactly say the same about other people who've been there longer. The woman who shot Enjolras and the boy  that attacked Feuilly are examples of how unstable they can be. My suggestion is to take away their weapons and keep a close vigilance on them in case they  come to try anything".

"We can't make them feel like prisoners", Courfeyrac protested. "Taking them from a prison and locking them up in another will only make them feel more hostile towards us. Take their weapons away if you must, but I disagree with the vigilance. We should send either you or Joly to see them, help them and assist them to come back to their minds".

"Yes, but until we do so we should keep an eye on them. We can't have psychologically disturbed people walking around the building and imposing a threat to us all. You didn't see the state of the woman who shot Enjolras".

"I saw the state of a young boy who was shot in the head because he went crazy from being stuck in a room for months. I stand by what I said. We should help them, not lock them up".

"Enjolras, I believe the decision is up to you", Combeferre called.

"Hm?" Enjolras asked, looking up from the pages he was reading, distracted.

"Were you listening?" Courfeyrac frowned.

"Yes... Sorry, I was listening, yes. I think we should take their guns, but send Joly to speak to them and try to help. We don't want them to feel locked up".

"So we'll just let them loose around the building?"

"No, we maintain their right of walking around freely", Courfeyrac said.

"Alright", Combeferre sighed reluctantly. "I'll talk to Joly, see if we can start tending to people today". With that, he got up from his sit and left the room without another word.

"Don't mind him", Courfeyrac told Enjolras. "He's just stressed out with the situation".

"I know", Enjolras said, going back to the papers.

"How are you holding up?" 

"What do you mean?"

"With this whole situation. More people, food scarce, responsibility", Courfeyrac offered, gesticulating vaguely. 

"Fine. We're already sorting it out. I have a group ready to go on a supply run by tomorrow, the new people are already set up on the other apartments, everyone is perfectly content. Everything will be alright".

Courfeyrac rubbed his face with both hands, tired.

"Enj, you can't keep pretending it didn't happen".

Enjolras didn't look up from the annotations on his hands, but Courfeyrac could see his eyes were too still for someone who was supposedly reading.

"There's nothing I can do to change what happened. Therefore, there is no use to dwell on it", Enjolras said through gritted teeth when he decided Courfeyrac would not leave without an answer.

"You are allowed to be sad, Enjolras. Sadness is not a weakness. It shows you're human".

"There are thousands of people still suffering on BL's hands. Perhaps we should be sad for those who are tortured and brainwashed by the government, instead of those who are already gone".

Courfeyrac knew that closing himself was Enjolras' way of coping with loss, so he decided to drop the subject. It was unhealthy but insisting on the matter  would only make the blonde close up even more. Courfeyrac got up, Enjolras completely ignoring him, and opened the door to leave the room. The dark haired man stopped on his tracks, though, and with his back turned to Enjolras he said:

"If you ever wonder why R used to compare you to marble, this is why".

He left the room without noticing the way Enjolras bit his lip and closed his eyes to stop the tears from falling.

-

Four months passed with the Friends of the ABC staying low and doing nothing else than planning and surviving.

The Triumvirate had come up with several plans to break into four different facilities, one that fabricated laser guns, one that fabricated drugs, one that held state enemies and one that trained draculoids. Getting into BL's headquarters was getting more difficult as time passed and their fame grown. Even supply runs were starting to get too dangerous, with BL cars filled with vampires in every place that contained food or essentials. The Amis were beginning to ration food and even water, alcohol being forgotten as a luxury of the past, since their resident cynic was no longer around to complain about it's lack.

The first month after the break in was the worst. Injured people still recovering and unable to help, ex prisoners going through horrid withdrawals – and not all of them making it through it – and Grantaire's absence being felt deeply amongst the  Amis . As days passed, though, people got better, and all of them seemed very contempt to be away from BL's domains even if for a short while.

No one had expected the attack, though.

Four months of peace and ease were a blessing even for Enjolras, shoulder completely recovered by now. A deep ache still settled in his chest when no one refuted his ideas on meetings, or when no one made a clever remark about one of his plans. Sometimes he still let the tears flow as he laid on his bed at night,  memories too strong  for him to handle. But he never let people know how deep he was affected by Grantaire's loss, and whenever someone mentioned it to Enjolras, he pretended to have forgotten about it.

Combeferre, as always, knew better, but knowing how Enjolras could get, he left the subject alone.

Sometimes, it was hard for Enjolras to fall asleep. His dreams were filled with images of the night he lost Grantaire, of flames and shots and the smell of burning flesh, and more often than not, he woke up astonished , hyperventilating, hands tapping the bed desperately in search of someone who could no longer be  found. Combeferre and Courfeyrac always pretended not to know, not to see, but Jehan was too sweet to pretend it wasn't worrying him. After realizing a close approach would not change Enjolras' ways, the small poet decided they didn't have to talk about it. So he climbed Enjolras' bed whenever the man woke in the middle of the night with a strangled cry, allowing Enjolras to lie against his chest despite their height difference. Enjolras couldn't feel more comfortable than he was with Jehan on those moments, despite his long legs dangling off the edge of the bed. Sometimes, Enjolras couldn't help but cry, but Jehan never commented about it or gave any sign that he was aware of his tears other than trace soothing patterns on Enjolras' back as he muttered a soft song under his breath. Courfeyrac had never shown jealousy of this intimacy, being aware that Jehan was probably the best platonic  cuddler  in the world, and a terrific comforter. Enjolras couldn't be more grateful for having the poet on his group.

They were sleeping like this, Enjolras snoring softly  against Jehan's shoulder, the poet's hands intertwined in the leader's locks, four months after the break in, when a loud sound of a door being kicked open invaded the apartment. Enjolras was on his feet in no time, hands searching madly for his phaser as he shook Courfeyrac awake, since he was a deep sleeper and the sound hadn't rose him.

He gestured for Jehan to stay in the bedroom and for Combeferre to follow him, the latter already up and with a gun in hand. He could hear the sound of phasers being shot and of people yelling on the living room. Making a decision, Enjolras opened the bedroom door very slowly and as quietly as possible, trying not to call attention. He slowly put his head out of the room, passing the door frame, and trying to peek the living room through the hall.

Enjolras could see a vampire pacing, pointing his gun at someone and saying something he couldn't hear. Another one came into sight and was rubbing his neck, as if impatient about something. The last one he could see from where he was  was  leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed. Enjolras went back into the room and closed the door.

"There are at least three vampires in the living room", he whispered to his roommates. " I think they made everyone there hostage but I can't be sure. Who was sleeping in there  today?"

"Bahorel", Combeferre supplied. "Antoine. Cosette and her father, I guess. Feuilly. Musichetta".

"No one else?"

"Not that I can remember".

"Fine. Six people. We can't let the vampires  kill them but if we barge in they could shoot them out of reflex".

"What should we do then?" Jehan asked.

Enjolras bit his lip.

"I know you won't like this but it's me who they want".

"No", Combeferre said immediately. "We've already had this discussion and the answer is no-"

"You can't stop me from trying to help-"

"I won't let you sacrifice yourself!"

"You'd rather let all our friends die instead of-"

"This revolution will not survive without-"

"Shut up!" Jehan interrupted. "Just shut up. No one is going to sacrifice anyone.  We are going to solve this as rational adults instead of jumping to rushed decisions".

"We can use the emergency stairs outside the window", Courfeyrac suggested. "Go up to the roof and warn the other people".

"Look, if the vampires are inside this building they're not in small numbers", Combeferre protested. "They're probably on the other apartments already. There's no use going up there just to be caught".

"Just let me gain us sometime-", Enjolras started.

"No, Enjolras!" Jehan nearly yelled, angry. "You will not give up and you will not give in. No one gives a shit about your dream of being a martyr, we are your friends and we will not let you die. Now you can either help us solve this or stay quiet, it's your choice".

"Shhh!" Courfeyrac shushed. "I think I heard something on the hall".

Enjolras' heart started beating faster inside his chest. He looked at Combeferre, who had just muttered something.

"What?" Enjolras asked.

"Éponine", he repeated, looking scared. "She probably doesn't know what's going on and she's in there with her siblings and Céline".

"Shit", Courfeyrac muttered.

"Stay here and don't you dare do anything stupid", the guide said, just as he opened the window quickly and jumped off, ignoring Courfeyrac's angry whispers.

"Alright, fuck man, ok, Jehan, get down the bed", Courfeyrac instructed.

"What?" the poet asked as Courfeyrac pushed him down to his knees and urged him down the bed. "What are you doing?"

"Enjolras, you too, get down the other bed", the raven said, pushing Enjolras too. "Now you two, be quiet down there and don't make a sound unless I tell you to".

"What are you doing  Courf ?" Jehan asked again, just as the bedroom door was kicked open and a vampire barged in, gun aimed at Courfeyrac's head. Jehan had to cover his own mouth with one hand to keep from screaming, as Courfeyrac raised his hands up to the air in a surrendering gesture.

"Don't shoot, I'm  unnarmed , don't shoot!", he yelled.

"Get to your knees, now!" the vampire shouted, putting the barrel of the gun against Courfeyrac's forehead.

"Ok, I'm on my knees, chill", the man said, kneeling and putting his hands behind his head.

"Where is the leader?" the vampire questioned.

"I don't know, he got away!"

"Where is he?"

"He got away!" Courfeyrac yelled. 

"Then you're of no use", the vampire replied, tilting his head to the side. Just as he was about to pull the trigger, another draculoid appeared on the hallway.

"Don't", he said, voice muffled by the low tone he used and by the mask he wore.

"He says the leader got away", the first vampire said, phaser still against Courfeyrac's sweaty temple.

"He could be useful", the other draculoid said. "He's the third in command".

"How do you-"

"He's the one in the stupid costume from the first broadcast. Bring him to the living room and put him with the others".

"Fine, get up", the first vampire said, pulling Courfeyrac by his elbows and shoving him out of the bedroom. The other draculoid stayed back, leaning out of the window and looking up the emergency stair. Below the bed, Enjolras silently moved his hand to where his phaser lied on the ground, reaching it and holding it close.

The vampire climbed the window and hopped outside, slowly walking the metal floor careful not to make a sound. Éponine's room was the next after Enjolras', and if the vampire saw the window open, he'd threaten everyone inside. He could not let that happen.

Enjolras crawled his way from below the bed and got to his feet, Jehan following him. Slowly looking out the window, he could see the vampire just as he reached the open window, and wasted no time in shooting him.

Unfortunately, the angle was not favorable to Enjolras and he missed the shot, hitting the metal bar right above the vampire's head  who , instead of shooting back at Enjolras, jumped inside Éponine's room through the window. The leader went after him, cursing himself for his mistake, Jehan right on his tracks.

As he hopped inside the girl's bedroom, the first thing he noticed was how empty it was. The vampire was nowhere to be seen and the beds were vacant, sheets disheveled. As Jehan hopped right after him, Enjolras got to his knees and looked down the bed, seeing a frightened Azelma held by a equally scared Gavroche.  Éponine , Combeferre, Céline or the girl's medical equipments were nowhere to be seen.

"Stay here", Enjolras whispered to the pair. They both nodded vehemently. "Where's Combeferre?"

"They went out the window", Gavroche whispered back. Nodding once, Enjolras got back to his feet.

"They're probably on the roof", Enjolras told Jehan. "The vampire is inside the apartment. Stay here with the kids, I'll go to the living room".

"Enjolras, I will not permit that", Jehan warned. "You stay here. I'll go to there and buy you some time to go away with the kids". As Enjolras opened his mouth to protest, Jehan raised his hand. "Please,  Enj . Courfeyrac is there and they could kill him any moment. I can't let that happen".

Without waiting for an answer, the poet turned his back and left the room. Enjolras didn't waste any time, pulling the  Thénardier  siblings from their hiding spot and urging them out the window.

"Go up the roof, be careful, if you see a vampire shoot them on the sight", he instructed, handing a phaser to Gavroche and taking another for himself  from Éponine's desk. "If you don't find your sister or Ferre up there, hide. If no one  picks you up in half an hour, take your sister and leave the building. Do you know where the alternative safe place is?"

Gavroche nodded.

"Do you know how to get there?"

Another nod.

"Can you drive?"

"Not very well but it will do"., the boy said.

"Alright. Be safe Gavroche", with that he closed the window and turned around, ready to go to the living room and keep him friends safe.

He stopped on his tracks when he saw the vampire right in front of him, aiming the weapon at his chest.

"Dispose of your gun", the draculoid instructed. His voice was oddly muffled.

Enjolras threw the phaser on the floor in front of his feet.

"You are the leader", the vampire stated dumbly.

"And you're here to kill me", Enjolras replied.

"You will go to the living room".

"Sure", Enjolras said. "Lead the way".

"You first", the vampire replied, pulling Enjolras and propping him forwards with his phaser. Enjolras left the bedroom reluctantly, mind racing in search of an escape plan.

As he entered the living room, he was met by Jehan and Courfeyrac's startled gaze, Bahorel disapproving eyes and sharp intakes of breath coming from all his friends. They were all kneeling in front of three vampires, who were promptly aiming their guns at the group. They tilted their heads as the leader arrived, masks covering their unknown faces.

"Kneel", the vampire behind him ordered. Enjolras kneeled beside a trembling Jehan.

Then everything happened at the same time as Bahorel suddenly jumped up against the closest vampire, tackling him down and punching his face. The other three vampires aimed their phasers at the large man, who used the vampire as a shield against their shots. Enjolras and Courfeyrac took the opportunity to tackle the other two vampires, as Cosette's father attacked the next. In a few seconds they had the advantage, Bahorel letting go of the dead vampire body and taking the phaser from his limp hands.

Enjolras didn't hesitate shooting the draculoid he'd overcome and neither did Courfeyrac, but Cosette's father hesitated for just a moment. The vampire seized the chance to run and jump off the front window, which was at least 16 feet tall. From the angle he'd jumped, he probably fell headfirst and broke his neck.

"Okay", Enjolras breathed out, checking everyone in the room for injuries. No one seemed to be harmed. "What exactly happened?"

"They broke in suddenly", Musichetta explained, weary. "Broke the door and threatened us, asking for you. No one said a thing, of course, and two of them went inside your room and brought Courfeyrac. Jehan came right after and then you did".

"Could you see if there were more?" Enjolras questioned.

"No, but there probably were. How the fuck did they find our location Enjolras?" she asked.

"I don't know. Right now I'm wondering how they got inside. Who was on guard?"

"Uh, Antoine", Cosette answered. "It was supposed to be me but I wanted to stay with my father and he covered for me".

"Was he downstairs?"

"Yes".

"Shit. Ok, here's what we'll do. Gavroche and Azelma are up the roof, Combeferre,  Éponine  and Céline  could be with them but I don't know for sure. I told them to leave and go to our spare HQ if no one went for them in thirty minutes. Jehan and Cosette, meet them up there and get out of here fast, use the emergency stairs. Go", Enjolras ordered, and the pair did as they were told. Cosette's father followed them, not waiting for Enjolras' orders, and the man looked around uncomfortably. "Courf, 'Chetta, you go to the last floor, Bahorel, Feuilly, you go with me to the fourth. Remember, the vampires have hostages, so don't barge in shooting or we might lose lives. Go".

Courfeyrac and Musichetta nodded, going back to Enjolras' room to take the emergency stairs. Bahorel and Feuilly were ready to go right behind them, but Enjolras held Bahorel's arm, asking for him to wait.

"We need to take some important things first", Enjolras said. "We're about to abandon our main HQ and BL will probably turn this place upside down. There are important papers here that could compromise us in the future if they fall in wrong hands".

"Where are they?" Feuilly asked.

"Mainly in my room and on Joly's".

"We'll also need clothes and supplies. Don't worry, I'll take everything we need", the redhead assured. "You and Bahorel go, I'll take our stuff and get a car ready for us to leave".

"Take care, you can't be seen", Bahorel warned.

"Don't worry about me. I'm a big boy", Feuilly winked at the large man, before going to the medical room for a backpack and disappearing inside.

"How are we gonna do this, Enjolras?" Bahorel asked, as they climbed their way up the emergency stairs to the fourth floor. "We don't know how many of them are there. They could have killed everyone from what we know".

"Are you suggesting we leave the hostages behind?"

"Hell no. I'm just saying you shouldn't put your life at risk for people who could be already dead. I agree with Ferre when he says the revolution-"

"Yes, I know, the revolution won't survive without me. I'm aware of that, everyone keeps telling me the same words. But the revolution also won't survive if I'm the last man standing. If all my friends die trying to protect me. So we're going into those rooms and we're freeing those hostages. And if they're all dead then we'll kill as many vampires as we can ".

"Alright man. Sounds good to me", Bahorel nodded, following Enjolras up the stairs as quietly as possible.

Before the pair could reach the fourth floor, though, they encountered the woman, Fantine, going down the stairs in a rush, not bothering about the noise she was making,  a still smoking phaser clutched tight in her grip. She stopped in her tracks as she saw the two men.

"What happened up there?" Enjolras asked. She was breathing fast and her eyes were wide.

"They attacked us. Made everyone in the apartment hostage and held guns on our heads. There were five of them. I managed to hide behind the kitchen counter as someone tackled one of the vampires to the ground. There was chaos, everyone started to shoot,  so I took my chance,  grabbed the nearest  phaser and ran off".

"Do you know if anyone's alive?"

"I don't intend to stay here and find out", she said, continuing to run down the stairs. When she realized Enjolras and Bahorel weren't following, running up instead, she shouted "What on earth do you think you're doing? You'll die!"

Bahorel stopped climbing the stairs and told her, in a rushed voice:

"If you don't want to go back  that's ok, go downstairs and find Feuilly, the ginger guy. Help him. We're going to see if we can find anyone still alive".

With that, he turned around and resumed climbing the stairs, leaving a startled Fantine behind.

-

"You need to be quiet",  Éponine  was whispering to Céline. "I know it's hard but please be quiet ok?"

The little girl nodded, covering her mouth with her hands to keep from making any sound.

Éponine had tied a rope around the girl's waist, and with Combeferre's help began to  ease  her down slowly from the building's rooftop. With one hand, the girl  grabbed the tense rope, trying to keep her body from turning around as she was suspended in the air, ground approaching gradually. Gavroche and Azelma were already down there, having found the trio hiding on the rooftop, Éponine about to go back and take them from the room . All they could grab from her equipment was packed safely on a backpack behind Gavroche's back.

Céline's feet collided with the floor and Azelma hurriedly undid the tight knot her sister had tied. Looking up to the rooftop and nodding once to Éponine, she helped a tired Céline sit up on the sidewalk, as her sister pulled the rope back up.

"Promise me you'll follow me down", Éponine whispered to Combeferre, looking deep inside his eyes. "After you lower me. Promise".

Combeferre sighed.

"'Ponine, I left Enjolras down there, he could be in trouble and I need to help him".

Éponine's lips formed a thin line before she answered.

"I can't lose you too", she said.

He pulled her into a tight hug, caressing her hair.

"Go with the kids, grab our car, hide inside it and wait for me. I'm going back to you", he whispered in her ear.

"Promise me", she whispered back.

"I promise. Now let's get you ready".

He tied the rope around Éponine's waist very carefully, knotting tightly and making sure it wouldn't slip. She sat by the rooptop's edge and Combeferre stole a gentle  kiss from her lips, a quick goodbye. He began lowering her down, more rapidly than they did to Céline, since  Éponine  was heavier and their time was running short. As soon as her feet touched the ground Combeferre let go of the rope, running back to make his way to Enjolras' room, hoping the man was still there.

He never made it past the last floor, though, as he was caught in the middle of a crossfire. Three vampires had barricaded themselves inside the floor's only apartment, and were currently shooting someone who was firing back from the lower stairs. As they spotted Combeferre, they aimed at him, making the man take cover and shoot back.

"Éponine?" he  heard Jehan yell from the lower stair.

"No, it's Combeferre", the man yelled back, still shooting. Jehan managed to shoot one of the vampires in the head  and he flew back gracelessly through the door frame. The door itself was long gone, several pieces of burnt wood scattered across the ground. Seizing the distraction caused by the fall of the draculoid, Combeferre shot at one of the remaining ones, hitting his shoulder. In no time the amis managed to overcome them, Jehan and Combeferre finally shooting them down.

"Any survivors?" Combeferre panted.

"I don't know, we'll have to check. We barely made it through the fourth floor, the whole place was chaotic", the poet  panted  back. "Éponine and the kids?"

"They're already out the building. Went to grab a car. I was going to help Enjolras", Combeferre explained.

"He was  downstairs with Bahorel and Feuilly the last we  saw him", Musichetta explained.

"We need to find Marius", Cosette whimpered.

"Where was he?" Jehan questioned.

"He was sleeping in the fourth today with Joly and Bossuet, we need to go help them".

"Alright", Combeferre eased. "Cosette, 'Chetta and Jehan, go back to the fourth and see if you can do anything.  Courf , and-", he stopped himself, realizing he never got to know the name of Cosette's father. "Sorry, sir, what's your name again?"

"Valjean", he replied. "Jean Valjean".

"Alright, Valjean and  Courf , you're with me here on fifth. We'll see if we can find any one alive and we'll be right down to help you".

The two girls and  Jehan  went downstairs, as Combeferre leaded his group through the broken door.

The whole living room was a mess, broken furniture scattered everywhere and vampire bodies lying cold on the ground. Some of their people were dead as well, no one Combeferre got the time to know better, which sent a tingle of regret through his mind.

They found no one alive on that apartment, and could only hope the possible survivors managed to escape before the amis got to them.

Going downstairs they found an even bigger mess, but way more survivors. The vampires had been killed by the very hostages, without any losses. Cosette was on the floor tending an injured Marius, while Joly was patching up Bossuet, who'd been grazed by a shot. Enjolras and Bahorel were there, unharmed, helping other survivors who sustained minor injuries.

"How the hell did they find us?" Bossuet muttered miserably to Combeferre. "How did they know our location?"

Combeferre locked eyes with Enjolras from  across the room.

"I don't know. But the priority now is to make it out of here alive. We'll go to the next headquarter and try to solve things from there. Get ready, we're leaving in two", the leader announced, getting to his feet and approaching Combeferre. They went outside the apartment to have some privacy.

"This was too easy", Enjolras whispered. "If they found out where we were, why not blow up the building? Why send a handful of vampires to take hostages?"

"I don't know", the guide admitted. "This is very suspicious. But we should really go, Enjolras, before more of them arrive. Did you take our plans?"

"Feuilly did. I agree, we should go".

"Is the third floor clear?"

"I don't know, we took the emergency stairs. We should check it out just to be safe".

Combeferre called Bahorel and Courfeyrac to cover the third floor, finding two remaining vampires, who they took down easily. There were only three survivors on that floor, Gervais and two other men that Combeferre didn't know. They helped them out the apartment, calling for the other amis to come down so they could finally leave the building.

"We should burn it", Enjolras suggested, not looking at any of them. "Just to be safe".

"I'll get to it", Combeferre assured, hurrying back to the rooftop with Courfeyrac. They came back with a bottle of a flammable cleaning product and started to spread it on the stairs of the ground floor.  They had to exit through the emergency stairs, as the main entrance of the building was covered by wreckage.  As soon as everyone left the building, Courfeyrac squeezed the remaining of the product on the  wall, shooting at it with his laser gun.  Flames  went up  in a second, spreading across the wall as the fire tried to reach the whole construction . He rushed away , going back to aiding a young Gervais, as Enjolras and Combeferre lead the way to the cars. 

Feuilly had parked a few feet away from the building, so Enjolras sent the people who were mostly injured on the car with him . Combeferre rushed to where  Éponine  was waiting in the car, followed by Courfeyrac, as Bahorel stood behind with the other amis to spread amongst the remaining cars.

Enjolras was making sure the new people were safely tucked on the pickup's back when a harsh, muffled voice came from behind him.

"Don't move", the draculoid behind him said as Enjolras tensed up. In a fraction of a second he cursed himself for forgetting about the vampire who jumped off the window, for not checking for a body, for automatically assuming he was dead. He raised his hands, sending Bahorel – who was sitting on the passenger sit of the pickup looking weary – a warning look, before trying to turn around. The vampire sensed his movement and shouted: "I said don't move! Move and I'll shoot".

"I was going to turn around to face you", Enjolras explained in a low voice.  He  could see Bahorel going slowly for his gun inside the car.

"You're coming with me", the vampire ordered, but it sounded like he was speaking more to himself than to Enjolras. "You're the leader, you're coming with me".

"Coming where?" Enjolras asked, trying to distract the vampire from catching what Bahorel was doing.

" T -to... To... To the facility, yes", the vampire stuttered, which was odd. Enjolras had never seen any draculoid sound unsure. "I'm taking you to the facility".

"Why?" Enjolras asked. "You could just shoot me. Isn't that what BL is all about? Killing me and ending the revolution?"

"Enjolras", came Marius' warning voice from the pickup's back.

"Enjolras", the vampire repeated dumbly, as if testing the word.

The leader felt something weird tingling in the back of his head, as if something about this situation was familiar, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. A sudden, impossible thought crossed his mind and he turned around abruptly.

"Stay still!" the vampire yelled.

"Take of your mask", Enjolras muttered, heart beating fast.

"Stay where you are or I'll shoot you!"

"Take of your mask", the leader repeated, taking a step forward. The vampire clutched his gun tighter, finger hovering over the trigger.

Enjolras knew he was putting himself at risk, he knew he shouldn’t be doing this and he could picture Combeferre's disapproving glare on his head, but he couldn't stop now. He needed to check, he needed to see that he was wrong.

"Enjolras, stay back", Bahorel called through gritted teeth.

"One more step and I'll shoot, I s-swear", the draculoid warned.

Enjolras raised his hand, trying to reach for the man in front of him, but before his hand was midway in the air, the vampire's finger tightened around the trigger. He never took the shot, though, as Bahorel was faster and shot the vampire on the shoulder before he could shoot Enjolras. The random shot from the vampire's gun was sent flying up the sky, as the draculoid flew back from the shot and collided with the ground harshly, his gun flying away from his reach .

"Enjolras, c'mon!", Bahorel yelled, bending over and opening the  passenger  sit for the blonde, who was  now kneeling beside the fallen draculoid. "What the fuck are you doing you dumbshit?"

"Enjolras, what the hell!" reprehended Cosette, hopping off the pickup's back and marching towards Enjolras. She put her hand on the man's shoulder as his hand hovered above the vampire's mask, unsure as  whether  he should take it off or not. "Enjolras,  let's go , we can't stay here, just leave him".

Making a decision, Enjolras quickly took the vampire's mask off.

Hearing Cosette's sharp intake of breath above him and the sudden coldness on his shoulder as she retrieved her hand, Enjolras couldn't help but lose balance, leaning hard on his side as his legs gave away. He could hear Bahorel's loud "holy shit" and people muttering on the car's back, but their words mixed together and began blurring into nothing more than white noise as he took in the scene in front of him.

Lying on the ground right beside him, injured from Bahorel's shot, was Grantaire.

Enjolras felt hands under his armpits, pulling him up to a standing position, and he knew he was being dragged away but he couldn't bring himself to move. The only thing he could hear was his own harsh breaths. Someone helped him up the pickup, Bahorel, probably. With his peripheral vision he saw  a  blur that could be Cosette rushing somewhere and yelling words that didn't make sense to him in the moment.   _She's going for Joly, his car hasn't left yet_ , his mushy brain supplied, and just like magic, Joly passed by his car, running while screaming something, Bossuet right on his tracks.

"-ras, can you hear me? Hey, can you hear me?" Marius was yelling at  his face as he shook Enjolras' shoulders. The blonde's eyes focused on the worried man in front of him, only now realizing how he'd  tunned  off. "Are you alright?"

Enjolras couldn’t utter words out of his mouth, so he simply stared at the frantic Marius.

"It's going to be alright, Enjolras", Marius assured as Joly and Bossuet carried Grantaire's body away, heading somewhere he couldn’t see. "It's going to be alright".

Cosette climbed back into the pickup, sitting beside Enjolras and taking his hand on hers. In no time, Bahorel started the car and took off, not worrying about the speed as usual.

Enjolras' vision was still blurry and unfocused as they got farther and farther away from the burning building that used to be their headquarters, reddish flames illuminating the whole street and sending the foul smell of smoke into the night air. Their burning home crackled, fragile foundation finally giving way and breaking, the whole building falling in a ruinous mess of fire and concrete.

Enjolras hadn't let the tears welling on his eyes fall until he remembered the  picture of  a smiling Grantaire glued to the rooftop wall, forgotten there on their rush, and now lost forever in the midst of fire and ashes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know this one sucked. Too rushed on some parts, too slow on others.  
> I'll edit this later if I have the time/patience.  
> As always, thank you for reading, kudos and comments are always appreciated!  
> You can find me on edema--ruh.tumblr.com


	9. Summertime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I bet you thought I would never update this again huh

_When_ _the_ _lights_ _go_ _out_    
_Will_ _you_ _take me_ _with_ _you_    
_And_ _carry_ _all_ _this_ _broken_ _bone_    
_Through_ _six_ _years_ _down_ _in_ _crowded_ _rooms_    
_And_ _highways_ _I_ _call_ _home_ _?_  

 

The sound of Enjolras' shoes tapping against the floor of the empty hall echoed on his own ears as he walked across it, Combeferre and Joly right behind him. Tap-tap-tap was the only sound in the corridor, their synchronized steps being the only sign that there was still life inside the abandoned subway's station. 

It was the only place that they could have chosen for headquarters after having to burn their last one. The subway station gave them access to the entirety of the city, without having to worry too much about random surprise patrols sent by BL or drones that would spy on them from the sky. No, the subway might be dark, humid and be filled with a constant miasma of mold and dust, but it was still the best hiding place that they could hope for. There was no energy to make the trains work, so they didn’t have to worry about being run over when walking on the rails. This also meant they had no light other than the one the candles provided him. Jehan and Courfeyrac had managed to grab flashlights on one of the supply runs they had gone to, but they didn’t use those unless absolutely necessary. 

Soon after moving to the new headquarters, the Amis managed to stock enough food to last a year and a half. They didn’t do it easily, and it costed them a few lives and a few weeks, but with enough rationing and control of the stocks, they wouldn’t have to worry about essential supply runs for a while. 

The tapping of the trio's footsteps died down as they reached the last wagon of the train. Its door was sealed shut with a padlock that only Enjolras had the key to. He looked back at Combeferre and Joly, who nodded at him, taking a step back. Enjolras fished the key from his pocket and, with a trembling hand, unlocked the door. He placed the key on Combeferre's outstretched palm and entered the wagon, hearing the sound of Joly clicking the padlock shut as soon as he went through it.  

It was too dark to see when Enjolras stepped in, the windows of the wagon covered by fabric. The leader picked up a candle from inside his jacket's pocket and lighted it with a match, as he had grown used to for the past month. He settled the candle on the wagon's bench, sitting beside it. Other than Enjolras' breathing and the eventual crack of the candle's fire, there was no sound inside the wagon. 

A long time that felt like an eternity passed before Enjolras finally spoke up. 

"How are you feeling today?", he said, voice so abrupt and loud in comparison to the previous silence that it hurt his own ears. There was no response. "I see", he added after a few silent seconds.  

There was the sound of shuffling, of metal tingling against metal, and what could have been a suppressed groan. 

"Do you want to come closer?" Enjolras asked politely. 

"Stop treating me like a fucking animal", a hoarse voice came from the darkness. There was more shuffling. 

"I'm not", Enjolras protested calmly, even though his heart was beating fast inside his chest. "I'm just asking if you want to come any closer". 

"Do I need your permission to that?" The hoarse voice asked. It sounded nearer than before. 

"I thought we had established boundaries after what happened two weeks ago", Enjolras commented. His palms were sweaty, but one would have never been able to guess that from the tone of his voice. The scar on his neck throbbed, as a reminder and a backup for his statement. "If you wish to come closer, you must ask for permission". 

There was a sigh and a blatant groan now. 

"Do you permit it?" The voice asked, making Enjolras' heart throb inside his chest. 

"Yes", Enjolras said, nodding, even if he wasn’t sure that Grantaire could see the gesture in the darkness of the wagon. There was more shuffling, and then the sound of a body sitting on the same bench as him, but two seats of distance between them. Enjolras could barely see Grantaire's face in the dim yellow light provided by the candle. He wasn’t looking at Enjolras, staring at his own cuffed hands instead. 

"How's your neck?" Grantaire asked after seconds of swallowing dry. He sounded like he was struggling against the words. 

"Better", Enjolras said, ignoring the throbbing on his skin. "And how are you?" 

Grantaire scoffed, making his cuffs tinkle against each other. 

"I want to get out of here", he finally said, sounding upset. "I can't stand being here anymore, Enjolras". There was no desperation in his tone. Only tiredness. 

"I wish I could get you out of here", Enjolras said. "I wish I could take away everything you had to endure in the past five months. I wish there was someway I could help you. But there isn't, R. You have to get better on your own terms". 

Grantaire huffed out a harsh breath through his nose, suddenly angry. 

"I'm controlling myself better", he protested. "I haven't hallucinated or dissociated in two weeks. I know who I am. I _remember_ who I am, I remember everything, please, just let me out of here, I can't stand this anymore –" 

"Grantaire", Enjolras interrupted, struggling to keep his tone firm. "I can't let you near the others yet, you know you're not ready". 

"But I am ready", he said through gritted teeth, struggling to keep himself from bursting. 

"You tried to kill me two weeks ago", Enjolras argued, rendering Grantaire silent. 

This wasn’t a subject Enjolras enjoyed approaching. It still gave him nightmares and kept him from sleeping at night. He could hear Grantaire swallowing dry, but he broke eye contact as soon as the words left his mouth. It was still a delicate subject for the both of them. The skin on his neck throbbed uncomfortably. 

"I told you I'm sorry", Grantaire finally said after minutes of tense silence. "I wasn’t in my right mind". 

"And are you in your right mind now?" Enjolras asked, no accusation in his tone. "If I give you a phaser in this second, won't you shoot me down?" 

Grantaire bit his lower lip, conflicted. 

"I won't", he said, voice tight. "I won't. I promise". His eyes darted around the darkness of the wagon, looking everywhere but at Enjolras. 

"Please", Grantaire whimpered, breaths rapid and short. "Please, don't make me go through this again. I just want to get out of here, I just..." He wandered off. 

"R", Enjolras said patiently, outstretching a hand so he could touch one of Grantaire's cuffed ones. He understood how dangerous the action was, but seeing the man he loved like that, whimpering helplessly while stuck on a dark train wagon, broke his heart. He squeezed the trembling hand, looking straight at Grantaire. "I want you to get out of here too. It breaks my heart to have to keep you here, on your own in the dark. But I can't ignore other people's safety. I can't ignore the fact that you were brainwashed. And I can't ignore the fact that you tried to kill me less than a month ago. I want you to go back to us and stand by my side again, but for that, you need to get better. And in order to get better, you need help. But we can't help you unless you tell us what happened". 

Grantaire started to hyperventilate at this, tears welling at his eyes. He finally looked at Enjolras, a thousand emotions appearing at the same time in his big, expressive eyes, that shone from the tears and the candlelight. There was a plead in there on the top of everything else, a beg. Enjolras bit his lower lip. 

"Don't", Grantaire chocked out, voice constricted. "Don't make me do this. I _can't_ do this", he closed his eyes, throwing his head back as if trying to control himself. 

"You can", Enjolras tried to encourage with a smile. "I know you can. I trust you to do this. It doesn’t have to be with me; Joly is outside, he'll hear what you have to say. We need to know what they did to know in order to get you bet-" 

"You don't want to know what they did to me!", Grantaire interrupted violently, screaming the words at Enjolras who, startled by the sudden outburst, jumped back on the seat. "You don't want to know what I went through!", Grantaire continued, getting up from his seat. Enjolras tried to recompose himself, but Grantaire was getting closer and closer to him. The scar on his neck throbbed. "You have no idea what I went through! You have no idea what they did to me because of you!" 

Enjolras was breathing harshly through his nose, eyes wide and terrified. There was a loud clanging sound and he soon found Grantaire to be mere inches away from him, being pulled back only by the chain stuck to the handcuff around his wrists. It was a horrid sight, Grantaire staring at him with blown pupils and unfocused, rage-filled eyes, being held back from attacking Enjolras by a chain around his wrists. It was animalistic. It was terrifying. And it broke Enjolras' heart over and over again. It wasn’t Grantaire in front of him. It wasn’t the man he loved.  

Grantaire was shouting now, a few words of hate and frustration appearing between blood-curdling screams that sent shivers down Enjolras' spine. He crawled on his back until he was on a safe distance from Grantaire, only making the cynic more frustrated in his attempts to release himself from the chains. He fell to the floor, on his knees, and a sob replaced the scream on his throat. Enjolras picked the candle up and started to make his way towards the door. 

"Enjolras", Grantaire sobbed, making the leader stop on his tracks. "Enjolras, please, don't go, I'm sorry", he pleaded, sounding completely different from the man who tried to attack him mere seconds ago. "I'm sorry, I didn’t mean to", he continued, openly crying now. Enjolras hated that, it made his stomach churn. Seeing how different Grantaire was now, seeing how broken and different BL had made him. Seeing how they used the man Enjolras loved the most to end him and the revolution with him. 

Enjolras couldn’t give in. If he allowed himself to be affected by Grantaire's state, he would be doing exactly what BL wanted him to. He wasn’t stupid; he knew why they had spared Grantaire out of all people. BL knew that brainwashing and sending the man Enjolras loved to kill him would destroy Enjolras. 

And Enjolras couldn’t afford being destroyed. 

He kept walking. 

 _You have no idea what they did to me because of you!_ , the words echoed in his brain. 

 _Because of you!_  

 _Because of you!_  

 _Because of_ ** _you_** _!_  

He needed to get out of there. He needed to breathe and plan for the future. He would visit Grantaire everyday for the rest of his life if that was what it took, but he wouldn’t allow BL to break him. He continued to walk away. 

"Enjolras!" Grantaire called desperately. "Enjolras, please, don't leave, come back, let's talk, don't leave me here, I can't stand the dark anymore!" 

Enjolras knocked on the wagon's door, ignoring the metallic sound that Grantaire's chains made as he tried to reach Enjolras without success. Joly unlocked the door and opened it, not daring to peek what lurked inside. 

"Enjolras!", Grantaire continued to call, clanking sounds more and more persistent. "Enjolras, don't leave me here! Enjolras!", his tone started to shift from desperate to angry. Enjolras couldn’t look back. If he looked back, he wouldn’t be able to resist the temptation to stay. And if he stayed, he would break. Instead, he walked out of the wagon, keeping his head low to hide the tears from his friends. He put the candle in his hand out and inside his pocket, not waiting for Joly to finish closing the door before going back through the rails, Grantaire's angry screams growing more and more faint as he put distance between them. 

The scar on his neck throbbed. 

- 

He thought of cancelling the programmed meeting on that day, but decided against it. The moment he stopped doing things because of Grantaire would be the moment he allowed BL to win. 

So, even if he was absent-minded and lacked his usual passion as he spoke, he delivered a speech to keep the people's hopes up and then discussed new plans and ideas to what would be their big coup d'état on BL Industries' dictatorship. Everyone sensed that Enjolras wasn’t doing very well, so no one tried to push the meeting too far, leaving the blonde leader free to go to the wagon he shared with Courfeyrac and Jehan earlier. There wasn’t much he could do for now, but since Enjolras tended to overwork himself as a coping mechanism, Combeferre found him aggressively writing something down on his personal notebook, little piles of paper starting to accumulate beside him. He sat up beside his best friend, who didn’t even notice his presence, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. Enjolras startled at the sudden touch, giving a sudden jolt on his seat and looking around with wide eyes. He relaxed when he saw it was Combeferre beside him, immediately returning to his writing. 

"How are you?", Combeferre asked patiently, straightening himself on the seat. 

"Fine", Enjolras responded in a monotone, not looking at Combeferre as he continued to write. 

"Are you sure?" Combeferre raised an eyebrow. He had known Enjolras for an entire lifetime. He knew his friend was upset, and was too proud to reach out for help. 

"Yes, I am sure", Enjolras responded with a sigh. Combeferre didn’t have much time before Jehan and Courfeyrac arrived from their patrol, so he decided not to beat around the bush. 

"Enjolras, I wanted to talk with you", he said, and when the man didn’t stop writing, he pulled the pen away from his grasp. Enjolras stared at him, indignant. "It's about Grantaire", Combeferre added, and Enjolras' expression immediately shifted. He averted his eyes from Combeferre, fidgeting with the pages of his notebook. Combeferre let out a sigh. "I don't think you should keep seeing him", he continued, and there, there was the passionate fury, the righteous anger that had been missing on Enjolras' gaze on the meeting.  

"Excuse me?", he said, raising an eyebrow at Combeferre, notebook completely forgotten on his lap. 

"It's not doing any good to neither of you", Combeferre explained patiently, hoping that Enjolras would understand his point and take it into consideration. "I know you love him, Enjolras, but he is no longer the Grantaire we knew. He may _never_ be that man again. And whenever you go there and talk to him, you come back upset, he is left screaming alone in that wagon, and everyone gets tense and unsure of what to do. He hasn’t spoken to anyone but you for weeks now. I think you should give him some space, and allow Joly to take up the visiting duties until he is more recovered". 

Enjolras stared at Combeferre as if he was a mad man, disbelief blatant in his eyes. They stared at each other for a long time, Combeferre finished with his argument and Enjolras at a loss for words. He was a rational man and knew Combeferre was right, but his feelings for Grantaire spoke louder. 

"I can't", Enjolras finally stuttered, sounding like a spoiled child. "I love him, I can't just leave him there –" 

"You won't be leaving him there", Combeferre interrupted. "Joly will be taking up. He is a doctor and his best friend, he probably knows a better way to deal with this than you. It's the best chance R has to an actual recovery, and your best chance to focus on this cause and lead us to victory. We're so _close_ , Enjolras. We're closer to beating them than we've ever been. You can't just throw everything away because of Grantaire. I understand that you love him, but you're not helping him so far. Let Joly at least try, and focus on things that you can do". 

Enjolras shut his lips to form a thin line, looking away from Combeferre and frowning in deep thought. He knew his best friend was right, he knew that, out of all other Amis, Joly was the one who had a best shot on helping Grantaire to recover. And even then, he might not recover completely. 

But still, even if he despised that trait, Enjolras was a selfish man when it came to Grantaire. Just seeing him, making sure that he was still alive and breathing after months of thinking he had lost him forever, were enough to make him sleep, even if for just a couple hours. He didn’t want to give that up, no matter how upset he ended up after the daily visits and how Grantaire's screams and accusations echoed in his mind at night.  

And yet, deep inside, he knew Combeferre was right. He knew he couldn’t keep doing this, not only to himself but to Grantaire, too. If Joly was the best chance Grantaire had at recovering from whatever those sadistic BL monsters had done to him, then Enjolras would stop going there. At least until he was better. 

"Fine", Enjolras gave in, not looking Combeferre in the eye. "But...", he added, hesitation. "But I would like Joly to keep me inform on his state. Just... Just to know how he is doing". 

"Of course", Combeferre nodded, understanding. "Are you sure you don't want to move to my wagon?", he offered for the tenth time. "I don't know how you sleep here, with Courf and Jehan, I remember the one time I did and trust me, I would rather sleep on the floor outside", he chuckled, trying to lighten the conversation. Enjolras smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. 

"I don't mind them", he shrugged, smile lingering on his lips. "I think it's nice that someone is managing to have a good time, in the midst of all... _this_ ", he sighed, gesturing to the space around them. 

"Things are going to get better", Combeferre reassured with another squeeze to Enjolras' shoulder. "Trust me. We just need to come up with improvements for our plan, and then everything we've been fighting for over all these years will be accomplished". 

Enjolras smiled back at Combeferre, and this time tiny crinkles appeared at the corners of his eyes. Combeferre always knew how to cheer him up. 

The guide picked up the notebook from Enjolras' hand, along with the papers on the seat beside him. Enjolras gave him a questioning look, but Combeferre made his way to the wagon's door, not looking back. 

"Get some sleep, Enjolras", Combeferre instructed. "You know you need to". 

With a stubborn sigh, Enjolras lied down on his makeshift bed on the floor, a pile of blankets and pillows that, put together, served as a mattress. It wasn’t very comfortable, but it was better than the hardness of the floor. Everyone of them slept on beds like that, now. He didn’t want to obey Combeferre and sleep, but he knew that he needed to if he was to work properly on the following day. He had plans and ideas to discuss, and he would be of no use to the cause if he was sleep deprived. Ignoring the throbbing of the scar in his neck, he closed his eyes, trying to urge himself to fall asleep. It took him hours, and by the time he started to doze off, Courfeyrac and Jehan arrived. They were less noisy than usual – probably due to a possible intervention made by Combeferre -, but Enjolras found himself too alert because of their arrival to fall asleep easily after that. So instead he allowed his fingers to run across the pink flesh of his neck, tracing soothing lines that eased the itch on it, until he finally dozed, hours later, into a dreamless sleep, which was more than he could ask for after months of nightmares. 

- 

Enjolras didn’t visit Grantaire on the following day. 

- 

Living underground had advantages and disadvantages. The advantage was that they could not be easily seen, either because of the darkness of the subway station and because of the concrete above their heads. This made everyone feel more relaxed about any possible attacks like the one that had happened with their last HQ, and even if there were constant patrols at the few entrances to the underground, the mood was lighter due to the improbability of surprise attacks. Plus, the vampires seemed to fear the underground, which gave the Amis double advantage. 

The disadvantage of living on the underground was that the structure was severely damaged due to the Helium War and the whole ceiling could collapse on their heads any second. That tensed the mood.  

But there was nowhere else they could go. Choosing any building or easily spot-able place would mean certain doom, for there were numerous vampire patrols on the streets through the entirety of France looking for them. BL certainly thought they wouldn’t be stupid enough to seek refuge on the abandoned subway stations, and their draculoids were too afraid to check, which meant they hadn't been found yet. But Enjolras wasn’t naïve enough not to know that was only a matter of time, so they had to act quickly. 

Ever since they moved into the subway, several parts of the ceiling collapsed on different stations. Thankfully, neither of them were inhabited, but still, Enjolras did his best to reinforce the remaining pillars on the stations that had people living at. They had enough losses on the hands of those vampires, he couldn’t afford to lose man in accidents like this, too.  

They had so many people with them, now. So many lives that Enjolras was responsible for, that he had to take care, feed and protect. Lives that were loyal to him. Lives that would yield for him. Sometimes, the weight of that was so heavy on his shoulders that he thought he would break. 

But he had to stay strong. He had to stay strong for his cause, for his people. 

He had to stay strong for Grantaire. 

There was a reason Grantaire managed to overcome months of torture and brainwashing and resisted the urge to kill Enjolras when he had the chance. There was a reason he didn’t pull the trigger straight away when he had the gun aimed at Enjolras. There was a reason he missed any major arteries when he put his knife against Enjolras' throat and sliced the flesh.  

Some part of his Grantaire was still in there, in that troubled brain, somewhere, waiting to be dug out. A part that kept him from killing Enjolras no matter what he thought he was supposed to do. A part that still loved him and was loyal to him, a part that was still Grantaire, and not a draculoid. 

Enjolras had to believe that if he wanted to keep himself from giving up. 

Because that's what Enjolras did best, wasn’t it? Believing. Grantaire always told him that he loved Enjolras because he was a believer, something that Grantaire could never be. But Grantaire believed in him, and so Enjolras would keep believing in Grantaire. He wouldn’t give the man up. He wouldn’t abandon him. 

He wouldn’t let BL win. 

There was a reason why they didn’t explode the building or sent more men to their old HQ. There was a reason why they didn’t kill Enjolras right away when they found him. They wanted him to see Grantaire. They wanted Enjolras to see, firsthand, what they were capable of doing to people, what they _did_ to people. 

Sometimes Enjolras lied awake at night, thinking about all the draculoids that he had killed through the course of his life. How many were they? He lost count. All those people, each one with a different story, each one with a different life... and Enjolras couldn’t even remember how many he had killed. How was he better than BL, then? 

No, that's exactly what they wanted with all this. They wanted to weaken Enjolras. They wanted him to doubt himself, to doubt his ideals. And Enjolras would _not let them win_. 

Every night, Joly would come to him with a report on Grantaire's status. There was no apparent improvement. But at least he hadn't tried to kill Joly, and that was a good thing. 

Enjolras sighed at this thought. Since when his boyfriend not trying to kill his friends was a good thing, instead of a normal one? 

Sometimes he felt so tired. There was so much on his hands, so many risks he wasn’t sure if he should take, so many doubts, so many insecurities. But he couldn’t let his friends and followers sense that, he couldn’t break his leader façade, and the only moment when he felt like he could be himself was when he was lying at night, alone, staring at the wall of his wagon. Those were the moments where he missed Grantaire the most. He never had to pretend when he was with Grantaire, he knew he could always be himself, insecurities and all, and the man wouldn’t judge him for that. For a nonbeliever, he believed in Enjolras too much. 

He stopped crying, after some time, but that didn’t mean his heart hurt less. It was as if a constant weight pressed his chest down, making it hard for Enjolras to feel anything other than tiredness and frustration. If he couldn’t keep the man he loved most safe, how would he protect all those people? 

He didn’t visit Grantaire again. A month passed without Enjolras stepping into the cynic's wagon again, and the only news he received of his boyfriend were delivered by Joly on his daily report. At first, there was no improvement, but according to the young doctor, they were on the right path to getting Grantaire back to who he used to be, or at least close enough to that. Enjolras merely nodded and dismissed him after hearing such news. 

Stopping to visit Grantaire was like a breakpoint to Enjolras. Once he stopped going, he couldn’t bring himself to go back to visiting anymore. He wanted to, he missed Grantaire more than anything, but he couldn’t. Whether it was out of fear or shame for letting that happen to him, Enjolras didn’t know. But he couldn’t. Not even after Joly gave him his medical permission, two months later. 

Even though they had enough food and water, the people were starting to grow impatient. None of them enjoyed living on the dark, moldy subway station, specially Céline - it only aggravated her condition – but they accepted it because there was no other option. They had to lay low for a while, to stay out of action until they were strong and prepared enough to deal with BL. Enjolras always promised a glorious revolution, filled with plans of attack and the fall of BL, but the truth was he didn’t actually have a solid plan. He had no idea what he could do to end the hell they lived in without sparing hundreds of lives and getting himself and his friends killed. And he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t leave Grantaire alone, trapped forever in that dark wagon, not remembering who he was. 

(Joly said he was starting to remember more clearly, but Enjolras kept forgetting that). 

He felt more helpless with each passing day, and not even Combeferre was enough to calm him down. He grew more recluse and closed to himself, to the point that Jehan and Courfeyrac moved out of the wagon under his request so he could spend more time with his thoughts. No one other than Joly ever mentioned Grantaire around him, and Enjolras was thankfull for that. 

And then, one day, three months after Enjolras stopped visiting Grantaire, Feuilly returned from his mission on the surface with big news for Enjolras, which were announced on a special emergency meeting on the same night of his arrival. 

All the most influential BL/ind. leaders would be reuniting on their company headquarters at Paris two months from then. 

That would be the perfect oportunity for the Amis to strike, and end that dictatorial hell once and for all. 

But of course, those men and women would be heavily guarded, secured and protected, and so would the building. According to Feuilly, there was no easy way they could get inside and close enough without infiltrating as vampires, and even then it would be a huge risk. Enjolras promised a definitive plan soon, and locked himself inside his wagon for two whole days, not talking to anyone, not even Joly. He needed to think. He needed to establish a course of action, he needed to come up with an infallible plan, he needed to figure out a perfect way to make things work. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t think of anything, it was as if his mind was completely empty, as if all his creativity and will had been drained out of him along with the blood that leaked from his neck as he lay on the dusty wagon floor, hands trying to put a stop to the flow of blood that was escaping the cut on his neck and pooling on the ground beneath him as Grantaire watched with wide, terrified eyes and he gurgled and coughed, trying to crawl away from the man he loved but had tried to murder him, and there was no escape, no escape from this situation, no escape from Grantaire or from facing the disappointment of the Amis when he failed, there was no escape, no escape, _no escape_ – 

A harsh knock on the wagon's door broke Enjolras out of the spiral of thoughts, and only then he realized that he had been hyperventilating, hand pressing down on the scar on his neck as if it was still an open wound. He looked up, trying to even his breathing out, only to see Joly standing outside the train, staring at him with concern and waiting for his permission to come in. Enjolras swallowed dry, finally letting go of the scar and standing up on shaking legs, making his way to the door and pushing both sides open to the young doctor. He came inside the wagon without a word, looking around before sitting down on one of the seats. Enjolras sat two seats away beside him, pretending there was absolutely nothing wrong. 

"I was with R today", Joly announced after a few tense seconds of silence. 

"And how is he?", Enjolras asked, ignoring the hoarseness of his voice.  

"He is better than before", Joly sighed. "Sometimes he still forgets and thinks he's being... Well. He still has his ups and downs. But he's better. Way better". 

Enjolras hummed, not looking at Joly. He wasn’t ready to talk about that yet. 

"He asked for you, today", Joly said after a minute of breathing and staring at their feet. Enjolras swallowed dry. 

"He did?", Enjolras asked, trying to sound interested instead of apprehensive. It didn’t work. 

"He did", Joly nodded, and Enjolras knew he was looking at him. "That had never happened before". 

"And is that a good sign?" Enjolras asked, still not tearing his eyes away from his own feet. 

"I believe so", Joly answered. An eternity passed before he spoke again. "Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that". 

Enjolras didn’t say anything. Joly's gaze burned him, but he still couldn’t bring himself to look. 

"How are you, Enjolras?" Joly asked, sounding genuinely concerned. 

"I'm fine", Enjolras immediately responded. It sounded fake to his own ears. 

"Like hell you are", Joly spat, and he sounded suddenly angry. He hopped on the two seats of distance between them inside the train wagon until he was sitting right next to the leader. "You can trust me, Enjolras. I am your friend. And I'll be with you, no matter what". 

Enjolras bit his lower lip, letting out a harsh breath. 

"I told you, I am fine", he said, mimicking Joly's annoyance. "Just a bit tired, that's all". 

"You haven't been sleeping", Joly said, and it wasn’t a question. Enjolras got up from his seat and paced on the wagon. Joly remained on his seat, staring at Enjolras. "Enjolras, talk to me. What you're doing isn't healthy". 

"And what am I doing?" Enjolras snapped, finally turning to look at Joly at the same time he stopped on his tracks. 

"You're closing up", Joly explained, locking eyes with Enjolras. Neither of them could look away. "You're shutting your friends out. You're isolating yourself from us". 

Enjolras didn’t say anything. How could he? There was nothing he could say. Joly was right and he knew that. And Enjolras wasn’t a liar. He wouldn’t deny the truth while looking his friend in the eye. 

"I am worried about you", Joly continued. "Combeferre is worried about you. Your _friends_ are worried. Let us help. Tell us what's wrong". 

Enjolras couldn’t do that on that moment. He needed more time to think, to decide what he would do. He wasn't prepared to have that conversation with Joly, or with anyone. Instead, he decided to change the subject. 

"You said you wanted to talk about Grantaire?", he suggested, sitting back down away from Joly and pinching the brigde of his nose. 

"Are you sure you're up to this conversation?" Joly raised an eyebrow, and Enjolras sighed. He wasn’t. But he had been avoiding the Grantaire issue for too long. 

"Yes", he responded with a sigh. "Go on". 

Joly bit his lower lip before continuing. 

"I think you need to go back to visiting him", Joly said, and as Enjolras expected, his heart tightened. He could only hope that Joly hadn't noticed. "He asked for you, and that is a terrific improvement", the young doctor swallowed dry. "He told me details of his torture". 

Enjolras looked up at this, heart racing. Joly was looking back with sad eyes. Enjolras wanted to know, but he didn’t want to at the same time. He didn’t even know what to expect. And he wouldn’t ask for anything either. He stared at Joly silently. 

"Let's just say that they did their best to make Grantaire believe that you are his enemy", Joly said, looking more tired than Enjolras had ever seen him. "And that he was supposed to kill you at all costs. They... they made him think that you were the one responsible for the... torture that they inflicted on him", Joly continued, eyes scanning Enjolras carefully. He didn’t say anything else. "But he remembers now", Joly quickly added when Enjolras lowered his head. "He remembers better than he's ever have. He remembers a lot of things, and he even made a joke the other day", he was smiling now. "It was silly but it made me laugh like I hadn't laughed in months. But...", Joly's tone changed, and the smile died on his face. "But... before I can... before I agree to his reintegration with the others I... I need to know if he's actually improving or... or if he's faking. And you're the key to that". 

"Me?" Enjolras frowned, too overwhelmed by all the new information to keep up with Joly's line of thought. 

"He was trained to kill you", Joly explained. "He's been doing fine without you around, but... I need to be sure he won't break again and lose control as soon as he sees you. Before I can let him around other people again, I need to know that he's... he's fine enough for that. Which is why... Which is why I'm asking you to go visit him. He needs to grow used to seeing you again. I understand how hard this must be for you, but I think it's the last step we need to take towards R's recovery. And I am sure it will be good for you to have him back, too". 

Enjolras took in a deep breath, looking away from Joly. As much as he wanted to see Grantaire again, and see the man recovered and back to himself, he wasn’t sure... He wasn’t sure if he could. He was aware of how selfish that was, but he didn’t know how to act around Grantaire anymore. 

 _B_ _ut you have never known how to act around R in the first place_ , a stubborn part of his brain supplied. 

There was nothing in the world he wanted more than to hold Grantaire in his arms again. But just the thought of entering that dark wagon again made the scar in his neck throb. 

"You can't keep going like this, Enjolras", Joly sighed, sounding patient but tired at the same time. "I know you love him, and I know he loves you, despite of everything that happened. I also know that isolating yourself isn't healthy, and that you _need_ to visit him, no matter what you fear that will happen. I will be there with you the whole time, you don't need to fear for your safety. But the longer you wait to go see him, the more of a ticking-bomb you two will become, and I can't have all the progress –" 

"Wait, what?" Enjolras interrupted, a sudden thought crossing his mind. It was as if a lightbulb had been turned on inside his brain. Joly stared at him in confusion. "What did you say?" 

"That you don't need to fear for your safety, I will go in with you and he won't attack –" 

"No, no, no", Enjolras shook his head so fast that he went dizzy, but it was probably due to the sleep deprivement. "About the bomb", he corrected. Joly frowned. 

"That the longer you wait to see him, the more of a ticking-bomb you two will become", Joly answered, clearly confused. 

Enjolras, on the other hand, laughed like a maniac, standing up and closing the distance between himself and Joly so that he could pull the man into a hug. 

"Joly, you're a genius!", Enjolras smiled, looking at Joly with a happiness and excitement that no one had seen in Enjolras for a long time. 

"Have you been sleeping well lately?" Joly asked, concerned. 

"Yes!", Enjolras answered on reflex. "Well, no, actually. But I just solved one of the problems that has been keeping me awake, and all thanks to you!" 

"I'm not following, Enjolras", Joly protested, tilting his head in confusion. 

Enjolras was too busy fidgeting with the papers piled on his makeshift desk to answer him straight away, looking for something through the pages of his journal and his other notebooks with trembling hands. He was mumbling the words as he read the papers, trying to find what he wanted, and Joly cleared his throat to call his attention. Enjolras then closed the distance between them once more, a map of Paris now in his hands. He handed it to the young doctor, who picked it from Enjolras' trembling grip with a frown. 

"I still don't understand", he said, after reading the map. 

"Call Combeferre and Courfeyrac", Enjolras instructed, smile gone from his face and replaced with a serious look that meant business. "Tell them I have a plan to discuss and it's an emergency. Call Feuilly too, if you can". 

"Alright", Joly nodded, handing Enjolras the map back. "But I don't understand what the map has to do with anything?" 

Enjolras smirked then, a triumphant sparkle appearing on his eyes again. His eyes had looked dull for so long that Joly's heart rejoiced at seeing the righteous fury inside them again. He let a hand fall on the top of Joly's shoulder, squeezing it tightly as if he wanted to pass him some of the excitement through touch. 

"Joly", Enjolras said, gazing intently into Joly's eyes. "Have you ever watched a movie called 'V for Vendetta'?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> forgive me,


End file.
